The Empty Chest
by Emrood
Summary: Her only desire was for everyone to remember him, the broken down bot left to rot in his Cove. She was loyal to her captain, a determined soul, and out numbered. But come hell or high water, she was going to restore that stolen treasure from his empty chest, even if it meant losing him.
1. One

The Empty Chest

 _Summery: Her only desire was for everyone to remember him, the broken down bot left to rot in his Cove. She was loyal to her captain, a determined soul, and out numbered. But come hell or high water, she was going to restore that stolen treasure from his empty chest, even if it meant losing him._

* * *

"Are y'ull ready?"

The cheers of the children pierced through the air, the rays of the last of morning sunlight glittering their way through the semi cleaned windows of the old establishment, dust clouds sparkling in whirlwinds amongst the young ones rushing through them. Toddlers, children, and the like weaved in and out of each other's paths, the young and innocent gazing upon the stage at the performing characters, the older and more experienced, addicted to the game room. It was a proper balance of things as staff maneuvered to each party's table, serving nachos, cheese, and pretzels for the eager tots, stuffing their faces as they laughed, danced, and participated in the show's interactive performance. Parents bounced their babies as they reached out with learning hands, rocking from side to side, maintaining balance somehow, and yet, still dedicated enough to feel the music flow through them.

"Do y'ull know how bunnies dance? They hop around with ants in their pants! Now hop! Hop! Hop! Hop!"

Thuds tumbled through the air as the young ones leaped in sync to the beat, clapping their hands as the rabbit on stage strummed his base, foot tapping in time. The songs encouraged hyperactivity, a crime to most, but by the end of the visit, nearly every parent was grateful, for their child would be on the brink of exhaustion and ready for an instant nap the moment they got home. It was a pleasant deal. The rows were wide enough between tables for the children to throw themselves about, the coordinated chaos kept in check by their very own, Freddy Fazbear. He towered over them all, adults included, but bore them no threat, instructing them softly in his mellow, smooth as silk serenade. He took front of stage again as the blue rabbit shuffled back to his place near the speaker, a chubby thumb curving to his right.

"Alright...now let's take a minute to breathe in...and out...in...and out...Can you tap your head? Can you reach your toes? Keep your eye on Chica. I bet she knows."

The yellow chick's eyes lit up brightly as she reached above her head and leaned forward (though not entirely to the floor, but no child held it against her), shuffling from side to side in her dance.

"Up! And down! Up! And down!"

"Hop, hop, hop! Hop, hop, hop!"

"Up! And down! Up! And down!"

After a solid few minutes, the children had broken into a healthy sweat, some seated due to the cramps they had endured from eating and jumping, others dancing with their parents, and some dancing behind their parents, for the characters on stage were certainly different than the plush toys they carried with them. Their young minds hadn't quite accepted them into their world yet, but they wouldn't mind watching from afar. Just as long as the creatures stayed exactly where they were, at the distance they were, everything would be a grand experience.

Freddy clicked from side to side as he sang gently, balancing the hyper orders of his band mates. The show was a success, as it often was: cake, candy, and tokens for all once everyone was settled down, for as settled as they could be. To gorge and run off to the game room, a Fazbear tradition. The slower eaters, or younger ones, would take their time, discuss what they had witnessed, and chat amongst themselves, not quite as eager to fight off older children for control of the game room. Some paced the floor, interested in dropped treasures and tokens. And some, very curious and very determined, clung to their parents as their elders walked by the stage, providing them a full head on experience of the Fazbear Band.

The first child in particular had clung onto his father dearly, perhaps no older than four. The young man gripped him firmly, but tilted him to the side in order to see the robots up close. "Look, buddy? See? It's alright. They don't leave the stage."

The boy hugged his father's neck tightly, head pressed into his chest, but trusted the man enough to at least peek at the creatures looming over them. The father lifted a hand and offered a short wave to Chica directly in front of them, chuckling in surprise when the bot's eyes lit up, waving back.

"Chica waved at us. You saw that?"

The boy nodded, fist clenched with his father's button down.

"She's gunna stay there? I don't want them to come. She's gunna stay there?"

"She'll stay there. They don't walk around anymore. When I was your age, they used to walk out on the floor and hug kids and do the dances here. I guess they changed the rules over the years. I haven't seen them get off the stage in a long time. But it was fun. Did you like the show?"

The boy nodded, tapping his head, "I did the dance the whole time. Him," he pointed to Bonnie, "and her." he added, turning to Chica.

The young man smiled, "Yeah? Who's your favorite, bud? That's Freddy over there, and Chica, and Bonnie."

"I like...I like Freddy...and I like Chica...and I like Bonnie."

The man chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Pfft...so they're all your favorite?"

"Mmhmm." the boy nodded, leaning back into his father's shoulder, rubbing his face. His blond locks swayed to the side as he peered into his father's neck, yawning lightly.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Who's your favorite?"

" _My_ favorite?" the young man repeated in slight surprise, not entirely expecting the question, but he needn't think too hard on it. He glanced about at the band on the stage, patting his son along his back. So many memories this old establishment had for him. His generation, and now his future generation. It was something he could appreciate. Something he could share. Except for one small factor.

"My favorite was Foxy. But I don't think they have him around anymore." he said quietly with a light shrug.

"...What's Foxy?"

The young man smiled, "He was a pirate fox. He was a little different than the band, but they were here when I was little, too. Foxy had his own room with a ship, and he would sing sea songs and say 'Arrrr' with his hook." he explained, tickling the boy's ribs with his hooked finger, and the child squealed. "He would tell us stories about his adventures with whales and mermaids and a big squid called the kraken. But, uh, I haven't heard about a party with Foxy in a long time."

"I wanna see Foxy and the boat. Is it in the water?"

"No, no, his boat was like this stage, and the room was painted like the outside, and the lights would change with his stories. Actually, I remember his room being right over there, but there's a sign on the door that says we can't go in."

"How come?"

"I don't know. Maybe he broke."

"Mmm...If we put a bandaid on Foxy, will he get better? Can he say the stories?"

A light chuckle escaped the father, wishing he could remember a time when such innocent thinking truly could fix the bigger problems of their world. For the child, anything could be fixed.

Anything.

"Something tells me he needs a lot more than bandaids, buddy. But maybe they'll fix him one day. They still have his prize toy in the Game Corner. If we win enough tickets, maybe we can get him for you."

The child seemed to suddenly forget his shyness as his arms jolted into the air, a large grin curving into his cheeks, "I wanna play the games!"

The young man chuckled, swinging the boy as he turned on his heel toward the game room, "Then let's go play some games!"

The boy giggled, clinging back onto his father's neck, and offered a tiny wave to the yellow chick waving good bye.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Working on this and another fnaf story, just because it's still in my system. And we all need more Foxy the Pirate._


	2. Two

Two

The building housed an eerie silence once the very last worker of the day gathered their belongings from their locker and bid the bots a good night, a very common habit of the older employees of the establishment. The younger part timers barley acknowledged the aging mascots, far too mature for such nonsense, but the older generation held a certain respect for the animatronics that brought their younger family members such joy. In due time, the younger generation would understand. They always did.

The stale heat of the late summer night swarmed the rooms of the building, sticky residue lining the multicolored walls of the grounds. The tender chirps of the midnight crickets echoed their muffled songs, soothing to the weary ears of the newest life form on the premises, his firm heels clicking through the halls for his hourly run. The flashlight swung from left to right as he paced through the maze, glittering the metallic reflections of the chairs, seats, and doorknobs for a sliver of a heartbeat before they disappeared altogether from his line of vision. With a light sigh, he wiped his brow with the edge of his sleeve, eager to get back to the mini office where at the very least, a fan could cure the weaving feeling of heat exhaustion.

With a slow side step around the corner, his arm lowered with a yawn, nearly choking on the air slipping down his lungs.

The bright violet eyes pierced through him in the abyss, the pupils shifting from his feet to his hat, but did nothing more. A quick chill slithered along his spine as he took a shuffled step back, clutching his chest uncomfortably so. He hadn't expected any of them to be roaming in the same area as his perimeter check. They often clung to the rooms, edged along the shadows, or crept on their own stage, eager for the next show to begin. Perhaps his walking had triggered a motion sensor?

He couldn't be too sure. These creatures worked on their own time, a little smarter than he would rather have them. Clutching along his neck, the guard stole a quick glance behind himself to make sure no other surprises would be had, and swerved back the way he came.

Surely, any burglar who had the nerve to break into such an establishment would be rather vocal when bumping into one of these overgrown stuffed animals. It was a wonder why the owners even required a night shift to begin with. It wasn't as if the establishment was exactly rolling in the Benjamins, and he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to steal parts from these older robots. By current standards, they were fairly out of date and were only maintained with the bare minimum. Anyone who took any action against these robots would be witnessed as a hater of the innocent, a burnisher of the youth. There was nothing special robotics wise about these old models.

And yet, they still managed face recognition.

They still wandered in search for their intended age group.

They still lingered, almost lifelike in their interactions.

It was often said that the eyes were the window to the soul.

Their eyes always seemed dead to him...but something... _eerie_ offered them life. Something he could not explain. Not through textbooks, anyway. To a child, this was perhaps charming, but to an adult…

The logic was incoherent.

The shuffled clicks of his heels scuffed along the floors, heading back to his office. There was no need for him to meander around these halls. This heat was going to make him hallucinate. And his imagination was going to do worse.

The night remained quiet for a few moments until the firm hum of the metal fan in the office echoed off the walls, assuring all that the night guard was back where he belonged. The frozen chick blinked, eyes clicking down the hall where he decided to detract, and finally relaxed her arms from their locked position with a static sigh. Either he hadn't glanced at her tray, or he had completely ignored it. This was for the best. It would've been a disappointing night otherwise. She remained still for a few moments more, listening for any advancing footsteps...camera gears...anything.

The air remained thick with silence.

Good.

Pivoting on her heel, Chica the Chicken waddled down the hall as easily as she could, balancing the bottles and tools loaded in her arms, hoping none of them slid off and caused a ruckus. The last thing she wanted was a cause for attention. Things at the Fazbear establishment were always best done quietly. Discretely. And with a smile. At least, for her kind, anyway.

Her gears slowed as she paused just outside the corner wing, noticing the door was open just a crack.

Perfect.

With a light spin, she brushed against the swivel, eyes clicking about as the joint and bolts of the frame creaked with a yearn for oil. Perhaps someday.

Her heavy thumps muffled against the floor, feet pressing firmly as her head rotated from side to side, the darkness of the room causing her no difficulties in her search. Boxes cluttered her path left and right, gears and forgotten tools splayed dangerously across the tiles. The air felt dank with the lack of circulation, muggy and clotting and rotting away the cardboard left scattered about in this throw away room that bore no real use.

Not to the public anyway.

A light static filled clear of the throat. Or voice box, rather.

"Surprise!"

She waited patiently, pitched against the darkness, gazing at the ripped curtains directly in front of her. There seemed to be no movement behind them, but that never deterred her. She was a patient soul and there wasn't much room to hide. Not a window to a wall, barely a path to escape. Her goal was always in this room.

Always.

Shuffling her weight from one side to the other, the bot glanced about, lowering her arms a tiny bit. Not a sound to reflect on. Strange. She glanced from side to side, taking one step further.

"Surprise!"

"What be the occasion, chickee?"

The tray rattled in her grip as she nearly dropped it, twisting on her heel to the voice behind her.

"Goodness gravy, y'startled me." the chick huffed, setting down the tray on one of the sturdier boxes, brushing off any dust from her suit and peered up at the looming creature, his golden eye lightly lit from the weak power source at his docking station, or by pure determination. She couldn't be sure. She found it rude to ask. But by logic or fight, he was still powered...still lurking these corners, after all these years.

His condition was pitiful, a shameful mess that the company would be embarrassed of if they had ever actually taken the time to observe the poor creature withering away behind the curtain. The fur clinging onto his arms was in shambles, tears and holes pocketing his core down to his very shorts, tarnished and tattered far beyond what was acceptable in character. Below that had been scraped clean over the years, both legs robotized and rusted, and his tail…

Brushing away the state of the life before her, Chica smiled gently, wings wiggling in enthusiasm, "Happy Birthday! Or...Anniversary? I s'ppose it depends on how y'wanna look at it."

A silver hook rose in the darkness, tapping just under the loosened jaw of the decrepit fourth mascot of the pizzeria in thought.

"Be it that already? Felt like 'twas the other night..."

Wings lowering, she turned back to her items, shuffling through them quietly, "Once every year, Cap'n. Like always."

The boxes scraped against the floor as he pushed them to the side, making a bit more room for his guest, as it wasn't very often when he received one. Aside from the third member of the Fazbear Band, he only met with the occasional staff member, and only when they were in a search for something other than himself. If anything, he gave them an initial fright, nearly all forgetting that he existed in his domain after all these years. It was nice to see a friendlier face in his prison cell.

"Birthday….birthday…be amazin' this place is the one t'have it, an' blast if I can remember me own. Either me memory's goin' or I'm breakin' down faster than I thought."

Shaking a can gently, the yellow bird listened close, making sure there was still some content within. She always made sure there was enough left over before coming by, but it never hurt to be extra cautious. Not that it would help right now. The stock room was currently locked for the night. She would have to make due with whatever she had now. Her eyes clicked over to the fox leaning along one of the stacks for support. The corrosion in his left knee joint made it difficult to place his entire weight on for too long. Pressing down against one of the boxes, she found it to be filled with mechanical hardware, extra parts and even replacement chair beams. Closing the flaps, she patted the flat surface and nodded toward Foxy to sit down. It would be sturdy enough to hold him.

"I'm fine, lass. Y'don't think I just sit around all day collectin' rust, do ye'?"

Her wings clutched along his right arm, guiding him to the makeshift seat, and without much retaliation, he wearily took the offer. "You're twenty nine, Foxy. That's hardly old enough to complain about age or memory loss. If you're old, what does being two years older make me?" she huffed, turning to her tools once more. She scooped up the can once more, making sure the nozzle was properly attached. A spill would be a waste of resources and rather difficult to clean from either of their suits. He couldn't afford to tarnish the tatters he had left.

"Finely aged, lass. Like a refined royal wine." he uttered softly, lightly chuckling when she waved her feathered fingers across his snout.

"Oh, hush, you. Talk like that won't get you nowhere."

Leaning his weight to the right, the bot tilted his head, knocking his hook against his thigh. The light clang echoed quietly, not enough to harbor attention. "And why would it? Look at the state I'm in. 'tis a curious miracle y'make visits when y'do. Time has weathered me somethin' terrible." He watched as she doused a generous amount of oil onto an old buffing rag saturated with previous takes of motor oil from previous cleanses. She always found that the nearly empty cans the employees would toss always had a decent amount left at the very bottom. If they were going to throw them out regardless, she found no harm in puncturing a hole and combining them in the old canister they used to use before oils were commonly sold in shops prepackaged. With every little bit she managed to muster, she would collect enough buffing oil for a full robotic cleaning session...a lifeline her friend desperately required.

"If time has done anything, it's humbled you. I remember a Foxy who wouldn't accept help from anyone, once upon a time." she noted lightly, poking the ends of her wings into plastic bags for sanitary purposes. It was harder to clean her feathers without human help, and she didn't want to mislead them into thinking she was leaking. She simply had to be very careful.

"Aye," he sighed, running his thumb along his chin, "an' look where it got me. Sealed up like a mutt in a cage with the key tossed to the winds." Grabbing the rag, Chica glanced at him softly, gently lowering herself in careful balance down to her knees, settling firmly like a nestled bird. Her packaged fingers brushed back the edge of his shorts, revealing the corroding knee joints, rust, and jagged edges. She quickly covered his left with the rag, squeezing the fluid and tilting his foot ever so slightly to build the loosening mobility. "Well, whoever heard of a sailor who wasn't hardheaded?" she chuckled tenderly, finding the oil working instantly as the rust seemed to break off and fall away, "This wasn't your fault, though. Careless human error...that's all it is. The children loved you when you were active."

A slight snort.

"Humans...remind me why I'm meant to be fond of 'em when yer the one caterin' to me needs?"

Moving over to his other knee, Chica repeated the action, glancing to the side as he twisted the other leg on his own a lot more easily than before. The long term damage was still present, but a quick fix was all she could offer. He appreciated it regardless.

"Without humans, neither of us would be here, an' more so, I wouldn't be here to cater to anyone, so let's not forget we owe 'em a small thank you of sorts. Besides, you loved 'em kids right back, an' don't you lie to me you sly fox. You loved tellin' 'em those stories, an' havin' adventures, an' hidin' secrets from Freddy."

A slight grin escaped the decrepit bot, unable to argue the point on such a sensitive subject. Too true were her words. He had adored his time in the spotlight all those years ago. Leaning back on his wrist, Foxy picked along his ear with his hook, finding a tuft of fluff, "Ah, do tell, lass. How go the men o' the band? They give ye' a solo yet?"

Her wipe paused a moment before rotating around the joint, "Oh, Foxy, not this again. I told you, I'm perfectly fine being a back up singer. It's what I was meant to do. Freddy's the real singer, after all. It's the _Fazbear_ Band."

The bot huffed, ears lowering, " _Real_ singer. The bear could sing a babe t'sleep, I'll give 'im that. An' Davy help us all when the rabbit feels his time has come. The lad carries a glitch in his voice box, I swear it on everythin' I have left." A tiny giggle escaped her as she reached up for the can, and he gripped it firmly from her tray, lowering it down.

"Oh, leave Bonnie alone. He don't mean no harm in it. Just havin' a 'lil fun is all. The young'uns like it when he joins in. Besides, he's the only one who has an instrument in his programmin'."

"More the reason fer 'im t'shut up." the fox muttered, rubbing under his jaw with the curve of his hook.

A gentle sigh escaped the bird, tossing the filthy rag to the side as she set the can on the ground, clutching his foot with a careful hand and maneuvering it in its rotations. Much better. She guided his leg up in a bend, wincing as the rough grind pinched the air. His hips needed greasing next. His foot rested flat against the floor, wings driving direction at all times. Reaching for the can, she lifted up a bit from her perch, checking once more that the nozzle was firmly attached, and tilted it ever so carefully onto the exposed exoskeleton between the fabrics as not to damage what was left of his shorts. With every pump of the can, she tilted his leg more and more into a gentle circle until the gears stopped fighting her.

"I can never figure why you an' Bonnie never got along. You an' Freddy never really seem to see eye to eye, but at least with him, you mind y'manners."

Eying the rag on the side, Foxy wiped his hook along it, rubbing off the building grime, "I won't disrespect a man in 'is own house, lass. Same as no sane man boards a strange ship an' claims t'be captain. We have our place. But the _rabbit_ –"

"Bonnie." she corrected lightly, moving over to the other leg.

"Wull, he gave me a mighty fine greetin' on me first day, now didn't he? A man knows when he's not wanted, chickee. An' I was fully functional back then. I should've given him a _wallop_ when I had the chance. Blast it, I'd take 'im on now wif two patches an' a peg!" he huffed, curling his metallic hand to join the hook, a swift swipe brushing a light breeze against her top feathers.

Pausing her task, she gave him a stern look, gripping his hand and placing it down to balance himself, "You'll do no such thing. We set good examples for children and we do _not_ fight each other like heathens. Violence is not acceptable behavior at Freddy Fazbear's."

"It's the _rabbit_ who threw the first punch, lass. The bugger thinks himself so big only until y'call 'im out on it. I'd love 'im t'say what he truly thinks to m'face." the fox growled, wincing when Chica rolled his leg a little firmer than she needed to, gently setting it back in place. With a soft sigh, she lifted herself back to her feet, on to his left elbow. This would prove easier. The armature was more exposed, unfortunately.

"Bonnie can be sweet once you get to know him. He's just more ol' fashioned in that way. He can be a bit...close minded to new things." she tried, tucking his arm in toward his chest, making sure the oil spread evenly.

"Twenty nine, am I? Not quite sure what yer seein', lass, but I don't exactly carry a fresh out o'the box smell. He's had more than enough time t'get over it. I'm not a perfect creature, but I was brought in with full intentions. The humans expected me, anyway."

A small smile lifted through her eyes, a bit brighter as she thought back on those earlier days.

"I remember. You were...intimidating."

The bot chuckled with a light shrug, offering his right arm, "You lot wif yer cozy, tender looks. A fox wit'out chompers is a fish wit'out gills." Her covered wings held the curve of his hook in light suggestion, but he only waved it off, "T'pick the fluff from me ears an' fur from me teeth. N'more, n'less. Y'think the humans would bring me here t'gut the lot of ye'? I was meant for the likes o' kiddies. All look an' show."

"Still sharp." she pointed out, always curious why his makers chose to fit him with such a true weapon, but all in all, Foxy's words were honest. His hook had never injured a single soul.

A single click to his neck, and he rotated that on his own.

"But not really the reason." she added, tucking the can carefully, "It was your loud mouthed ego that threw us in a tizzy."

"Was I truly the worst?" he grinned, arching a brow, but the chick tilted her head with a stern hum.

"Threatenin' t'tie Bonnie up an' leave him for scraps isn't exactly the most neighborly thing to do, an' don't think I didn't catch you givin' Freddy a sour eye when y'didn't like what he had t'say. Runnin' up an' down the halls all howdy do, an' tryin' t'scare the livin' heebie jeebie outta the night guards...swipin' Bonnie's bass and claimin' it was part of your treasure collection? I dunno about the worst, but you were quite a handful in those days."

A hearty laugh escaped the fox, waving a hand much smoother than before, "All in good fun, lass. Y'must be jealous, though. I never did pick on ye'."

"I'd take a mighty pass on that, but I always figured you at least knew your place with a lady."

Tilting his neck from left to right, he made sure the joints were loose enough for his liking.

"What fun is it t'make a lass cry? It's an uneven match, it is."

Flicking a feathered pointer at him, Chica huffed, "Y'ull got some nerve, pirate. An' t'think I spent my night tryin' t'fix you all up."

Pumping his arms and rotating his torso, Foxy smiled, finding the pressure on his joints alleviated to some point. Bless her bolts, the lass. "Aye, an' a great job ye' did, chickee. I'd never upset the jewel of the cove. Least not on purpose, if ye'll have me sayin'. Ye' were the only one who made the effort fer ol' Foxy. An' a pirate never forgets."

Her ruffled feathers smoothed a bit with her smile, rolling her eyes before lifting the can in her grip.

"What did I tell you about that kinda smooth talk, Cap'n? Won't do a thing for ya'."

Offering her a grin of silver and gold, the pirate tilted his head in a light shrug, "I'm a stubborn fool."

A quiet moment passed before she took a step forward, but his hand reached for the can before she could attempt anything further. "Er...perhaps it best if I handle the face area. I don't want t'put ye' in any high risk situation."

She clutched the can a bit longer, contemplating.

"...I just don't want you spillin' it is all...you really oughta have a second hand...I mean! Not hand, but a helpin' hand. Goodness, that sounded no better."

With a snort, Foxy swiped the tool, swirling the bit that was left in the bottom to determine how much he would need. "Lass, I'm not exactly sensitive about the hook. I was built wit' it. What good is a pirate wit'out a bit o' gruffness to 'is name? If I was intimidatin' back then, I'll take it. At least I'll have a legacy t'be remembered by. Yer Bonnie tender can oil himself when he thinks on the name Foxy the Pirate."

A sour sigh escaped her as she watched him jolt the nozzle near the edge of his mandible where the belt gears connected, and even in the dark, she could witness the horrible corrosion infiltrating the mechanics. A quick squirt filled the area generously, but so much that it leaked a bit from the sides of his teeth.

"Blast."

Shuffling through a few boxes, Chica found a roll of paper towels, tearing the plastics off and unraveling a few. She pressed the wad to his jaw, soaking what she could before it dripped onto his lap, "I told you...y'can't see what your doin', y'stubborn fox."

"Not the worst thing that's happened t'me, lass. Besides, who's honestly goin' t'care? I'm countin' me days t'the scrap heap, I am. I don't quite know why ye' bother wif all this." he noted dully, holding the batch in place before swapping out with a fresh set of towels.

Tossing the soiled napkins onto the tray, Chica held the other side of the wad where the oil slightly dripped, eyes gazing at him sternly, "Oh, you hush with that nonsense. You ain't goin' nowhere. Humans are busy folk. They just need a bit of motivation t'get a solid work order in on ya' and y'ull be good as new."

"Chica...I'm twenty nine. Y'said it yerself."

Her solid stare fell away as she patted his jaw tenderly, trying to clean away the staining on his fur.

"I haven't performed in so long...I can't even remember the lines to me own show. The kids might've loved me once, but the truth is they're grown by now. They've outgrown me...an' I'm obsolete." he admitted quietly, tossing the rest of the dirty towels to the side.

She appeared more robotic that usual as she wiped the particular area over and over, soaking more and more of the stain away as best she could, eyes never leaving the spot.

"You're right," she uttered softly, moving onto the other side where he had given up, "They _are_ grown. One of them was here today, with his own child."

"Oh, aye?"

His voice held a twinge of curiosity for the first time that night.

"He was telling his boy about you. About the stories you told an' how you had a hook an' said 'arr' like pirates do...how your stage looked like a boat, an' the little boy wanted to see it so eagerly, the sweet thing...but his daddy knew you were off to the public, an' I swear it, Foxy, he was genuinely disappointed by it. You were his favorite, he said it there an' then. An' right after, he told his boy they were gunna win your stuffed prize at the game corner, 'cus they still offer it. Now why would they still offer that if they were gunna up an' get rid of you, you tell me? They still got you on some plates an' party favors. The young'uns just rarely question it...an' those who do, well, their parents remember. An' if they want Foxy the Pirate back one day, we gotta make sure Foxy the Pirate is still around when they do."

Rubbing his gut lightly, the fox sighed, shifting his weight.

"I'd be a sight fer sore eyes, I'll tell ye' that much. Ye' sure ye' ain't pullin' me leg wif that tale?"

"I swear on the very motor that keeps me goin'." she promised, nearly placing her dirty covered wing onto her chest before catching herself in the action. A small smile lifted on the captain, capping his hand along his knee. "Well, that be a lovely song. I told ye', a solo needs yer name on it."

Her wings lowered, collecting the can to finish off his ears, "Wasn't even close to a tune."

"Aye, but yer lyrics be gold."

She tugged his ear in a light tease, greasing the single bolt that held it in place.

"I'm perfectly happy with my place in the band. Freddy an' Bonnie welcomed me kindly, an' I appreciate the time I get with the 'lil ones."

"Fazbear and the rabbit are blind t'yer potential. Let's remember yer own words...'ol fashioned, was it?"

"Oh, as if a pirate isn't ol' fashioned."

"Me mind's as open as the skies, lass. I'd let ye' steer me ship if ye' wanted."

"I bet you would." she muttered to his gruff chuckle, tugging at his other ear, "Mind y'manners, now."

" _Always_ , 'round the lassies."

She tilted his ear left and right, feeling the jitter come loose comfortably, "There."

"ol' Foxy's just lookin' out fer ye', chickee. Ye' ought t'get yer fair share o' stage time is all I'm sayin'. The kiddies may come fer Fazbear, but they stay fer Chica. Darlin' o'the stage. I might not be as nimble as I once was, but me hearin's as good as they come. The little lassies adore ye'. A mother bird to 'em, ye' are."

A small smile escaped her despite her stubbornness to remain neutral to the compliment. The children were her weakness...her sole reason for existing. It was in their best interests that she was always concerned for. Knowing they desired her in some form or another wasn't simply flattering. It gave her reason to keep going.

"Let's check your jaw one more time, just t'be sure." she suggested softly, but the smile the fox had wore away, weary and tired.

"It's fine, really. After the mess I made, it's more than good."

She sighed, pulling back a bit, "I won't touch. Just open and close. Please."

Making sure she was true to her word, the bot's jaw opened and shut carefully the first time, easily the second. The third clamped like a snapped rubber band. She winced when he grunted, knowing the pressure had put unnecessary strain on him, but it couldn't be helped. He was missing the proper belt to compress the gears. The first one had snapped the day he went out of order.

"There's a reason why dear ol' Bonnie ain't fond o'ye' visitin' me."

"Foxy..."

" _Snap-jaw_ , is it?" he uttered darkly, and her eyes clouded in frustration, tugging off the soiled bags from her wings. That bunny had the loudest mouth this side of the flat lands.

"I'll tweak his whiskers straight for that one, but don't you let none o' that nonsense talk muddle your head. What happened then _wasn't_ your fault, an' I'll stand by ya' 'till the end o' time in confidence. I was there, an' I know what happened. Rumors are just a load of..." she fumed, unable to find a proper word to describe her disgust, but wouldn't dare stoop to any vulgar terms.

"Rubbish?" the fox offered lazily, and she gave a firm nod, shaking off the mood. This wasn't what he needed. But it was often a chat between them that never grew old, even with the amount of years that had passed. It was the reason he refused leaving his own room, even after hours. The reason he punished himself so harshly.

"Bop 'im a shiner fer me, lass. I'd love t'hear that tale."

Covering all the oily items with the soiled parts of the plastics, Chica side glanced him for a moment, watching as he moved his legs a bit, tucking them in toward his chest and back. Dusting off her wings, she brushed her belly and left them hanging there. "Not that I endorse anything of the kind, but...you _do_ know you're not bound to this room, Foxy...You're free to explore an' roam like the rest of us after hours." Her voice was timid in nature, knowing it was a hopeless effort as he leaned back and rested his foot against the top of his knee.

"I couldn't show me face in this state, lass. A man has his pride. It's downright shameful fer ye' t'see me like this, but ye' call _me_ stubborn. A _tsunami_ couldn't get ye' t'change yer mind once set. A solid rock, ye' are. Figure all bets are off once yer in here. I'm not about t'cower behind the curtain like some kit. I don't think I knew what shame was when I first arrived at this here place, but I sure as Davy got acquainted _real_ quick in the recent years." he muttered, eying her curiously when she placed her wings along his muzzle, fluffing up the fur along his jaw where it had gotten matted.

"Don't be ashamed, Cap'n. It's really not that bad. It's amazin' what a little upkeep can do." she uttered softly, suddenly holding his muzzle firm, "And besides, what was that about a pirate always keepin' his word? If memory serves me, I remember those exact words comin' outta a pirate who promised t'help me bake a strawberry cheesecake–"

His ears tweaked down at the stern tone, leaning back and pulling away from her grip. His thumb guided his jaw, sighing as he glanced to the side, "Ye'll never let me live that down, will ye'?"

"It's the only order I ever missed for a birthday request, so y'darn right I'll never forget. The folks had to deliver one here from an outside source. Do y'know how humiliatin' that is? It's supposed to be our specialty to deliver anythin' on the menus we offer, an' I end up bringin' out someone else's cake. Heaven _knows_ how that must've tasted." she huffed, wings in a near cross.

"I'd say that week was fairly traumatic fer me. A mechanic's arm broke in me _mouth_ an' I've been shut down ever since. It left a solid mark." he muttered, finding no forgiveness in her stance.

"It's been years, Foxy...you've never tried to make it up."

It grew awkwardly quiet as she piled everything neatly on the tray, clamping the sides, and pivoting her direction. It was getting close to sunrise, anyway.

"Chickee?"

"Happy Birthday, Foxy."

"Oh, come now, lass. Y'can't leave me night on a sour note like that! What good is it t'buff me up if yer only gunna treat me like I'm rusted? Chica?"

She paused for a moment, listening as his knees lifted him best they could to a standing position.

"Lass, I–...I'm _sorry_. I truly am. I just...I can't." he pleaded softly, finding no comfort when she merely whispered, "Foxy always kept his word."

She waddled out, ignoring the creak of the hinge or the secrecy of her actions.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Working on another story while working on this, so I've been jumping back and forth between them. Do let me know what you think~_


	3. Three

Three

She couldn't help but feel the guilt haunt her through the halls as she took the longer route back to her home stage, avoiding the cove for the night. The tools and tray were back where they belonged at the edge of the utility closet where the morning shift would find it and put it away, wondering where it had come from, but never quite caring enough to find out. That wasn't how she had wanted to end her visit.

For some reason, it never ended how she wished it would.

Foxy had been an adventurous soul in the early years of the establishment. A spitfire of daring wit. A pusher of boundaries. And under all his rough and gruff tack, the sympathetic, patient, protective, guardian of the children, the softer side he always saved for the audience of his crew. And as part of his private show, it was a side Chica had found charming about the creature who prided himself on such stereotyped hype. She had a small part, the cook of the Silver Hook who brought their trays in when it was her queue, but it gave her the ability to witness who he was with the children...a worry the other boys often had in the privacy of the after hours.

What kind of ruffian were they allowing to run amok with the children?

A tender hearted one, much to her surprise. A creature who had been programmed to be as entertaining as he was determined to win the hearts, minds, and trust of the children who came specifically for his special show. And as time went on, the children adored him. And as time went on, she could see why.

Yes, every show was similar in performance until his stories were updated every so often, but they were also very unique to the children who were with him at that time. He would learn their names, pick a first mate, interact on a one on one level...it made the entire adventure so customized, she couldn't imagine a child growing bored with him. He made them feel protected with his leadership role as captain, and they openly gave him command of each show. He loved the attention and each and every crew. He was the star of his show, and she couldn't imagine competing with him for the spotlight. It had never been her place to do so in either stage, but he always encouraged her to take more initiative in that aspect. Cook had more performance time than Chica the Chicken. He always threw a few questions her way. Spur of the moment things, but he wanted to make sure the children remembered. Remembered she was there. That she was important, too.

Sure Foxy had been many things. Hardheaded, stubborn, pigheaded at times. But in the end, he had always been her friend, and it hadn't required much else than her welcoming him to their world. Her mind could replay the moment over and over, and not once would it glitch in its frame rate. Bonnie had been petrified, horrified, and downright offended at the idea of a pirate _fox_ of all creatures teaching lessons to the young'uns. Freddy had been cautious, but not rude or threatening. He simply tried to keep the peace. But it was she who had shaken off her jitters and marched right up to the beast, extending a wing out to the hand that seemed available.

And he had gripped it, a fully covered paw at the time, and lifted it up with a gentle bow of his head to her surprise, a soft smile curling. She had thought many things of foxes prior to him, but couldn't think of a thing to say when he asked, "How goes it, lass?"

She supposed back then she had appeared a timid thing.

That hadn't been it entirely.

He had just been so...so…

Different.

Yes, that was it. He had been so different, it had thrown her off. Thrown them all for a loop. It had been an odd placement, a pirate in a Midwestern setting, but here he was, and there they were, and it was all expected to work out fine. And oddly enough, to everyone's surprise, it had. He had his place in their home, and they had theirs, and as worlds apart as they were, it all seemed to function perfectly for the children in this world. A pirate with a ship in the middle of the west? Of course. Why not? He brought something new to the table.

He could be friends with the Fazbear Band and bring treasures and travel out and come back (at least in his programming, he did), perform and leap about the children and entertain them in a way that Freddy and his gang simply could not. The songs were different, the snacks were different, and even the room they watched the show in was different. The lights would set the mood, and the sound effects fit their location, and it took them far, far away from the little nook they would originally start out in, and he would always bring them back, safe and sound with stories to tell of their own.

And they loved him. He hadn't out famed Freddy, no. That would never happen. Freddy was their leader, their mascot, their anchor to this place. But Foxy was his own leader, the captain of the Pirate Cove. And yes, he was part of the Fazbear family by a long distance connection, but he was his own entity in his own world. His popularity rocketed with the older children, which did well for the business, and kept the generations around longer while their younger siblings were catered to by the band. He tightened the connection with their children more than they ever thought he would, and much to Bonnie's dismay, the pirate seemed to enjoy the job. To be the star of his own stage, and the center of his own world.

She waddled by the darkened kitchen, eyes shifting away as she passed by, finding no urge to spend her time in there tonight.

His pride had been smashed to bits over the years, and though she refused to acknowledge his current state, she was well aware that the others would not be so forgiving. It was a foolish blip of hope to try and coax him from his dark cave. He was a shadow of his former self, and though he had calmed some and blunted some of his sharpened edges, she quietly missed the fiery passion that had once burned within him. It was a fact she kept to herself, as it was a fairly unpopular thought among her peers…

Having him discover such a wish would do more damage than good. Perhaps he would feel less than himself for it. Perhaps the shame would dig deeper and he would refuse her visits. Yes, it crushed her joy to see him in such a withered form, but she would prefer a glimpse of the ol' fox in his neglected state than to not see him at all. She was his last resource to the outside world, but if he cut her off, he truly would shut down, permanently.

And what good would that be for the children?

They had loved him once, they would love him again.

Humans were just...busy things.

And she had been patient, truly she had. But how much longer were they going to wait before Pirate Cove was up and running again? They had been using the room as storage for years now, but what if the owners decided to simply scrap the entire set? To scrap…

She shook herself lightly, eyes leading her back to the main stage. She was being silly. They would never toss out the fourth of the Fazbear establishment. The potential was there to do great things with him. Busy folk. That's all it was. They'd get around to it, eventually. And until then, she would keep him as functioning as best she could. There was a strong soul trapped somewhere in that stubborn fox. It was something she could admire.

Brushing her wings along her sides, she shifted around the seats, listening as the camera in the corner picked up her movement, but froze once realizing it was only her. "S'ppose I should dock." she hummed to herself, waddling toward the stage, curtains open and displaying the other two members of the band. They were quiet, not unlike most nights. Freddy nodded toward her, adjusting the microphone in front of him lightly, ears twitching as she marched up the thick side stairs.

"Mornin' Miss Chica."

His voice smooth on its bass octave.

"G'mornin' Freddy. Bonnie." she greeted, noting the bunny off on the corner, seated on his favorite crate, a show prop made specifically for him and designed to hold his weight. His foot balanced along his knee, paws gripping his instrument in a casual stance and twisting the top tuning pegs in habit. The strings attached to his bass were for show, as the music came pre-programmed and prerecorded for a flawless performance. He simply had to know his cue, but old habits die hard. His paws maneuvered the bass as if he could professionally handle it, and in his mind, he probably did. It was for the best. If he truly believed it, so would the children.

"Got that new night guard tonight again."

His digits tapped along the strings in thought.

"Oh, I know. I ran into him. Gave him a 'lil fright. He wasn't expectin' it. Neither was I." she chuckled lightly, fumbling with a rogue feather.

Freddy's low laugh echoed in his throat, vibrating the floor a bit.

"So _that's_ why he came back 'round this way instead'a full circle. Funny...I thought y'said y'were gunna prep the pantry for the mornin' shift. But, uh...if mem'ry serves, that's _opposite_ o' the Pirate Cove." the bunny noted with a sour tone, eyes flicking up.

With a deep sigh, the large bear patted his chest, glancing at his bassist.

Not this again.

It never seemed to fail. Anything attached to that cove irritated the bunny something fearsome, but if he thought Chica was going to accept it sitting down, he had another thing coming to him. Had he learned nothing from their previous spats?

Her eyes clicked back toward the long eared mascot, lids lowered in a defiant huff, "Wull, I s'ppose I changed my plans. Didn't realize it was a crime t'visit an ol' friend for a few."

"Somethin' tells me your doin' more than just seein' his sore mug. Evidence don't lie, darlin', an' it's spotted on your bib." he added with a slight taunt, brushing off a speck of dust from the body of his bass, "Wastin' good oil on a busted up bot. I can't figure your reasonin'."

Lifting her bib to the side, she found his statement true, at least of the spotting.

Well, darn.

She had tried her hardest to be careful. Maybe when he filled his jaw? That could've done it. Oh well. It wasn't a terrible stain, and she had other bibs in the spare room. The staff would fix this up in no time during the open hours.

"First of all, you can mind your own, y'cranky ol' sore thumb. What I do on my free roam ain't none o'your concern. If I wanna check on stock, I'll do it. An' if I wanna pass a friendly greetin' _t'Foxy_ ," she emphasized bitterly, "then I _will_. An' furthermore, the oil I use is oil I collect over time from cans they gunna toss _anyway_ , so it's spare an' free t'use as I feel right. It's attitude like _that_ why he won't roam out here no more." she huffed, wings tucked close as she glanced out toward the tables, watching the darkness of the room very carefully grow to a brighter hue.

"Poor thing's been betrayed in his very own home, an' y'want me t'stand by an' ignore it. Y'call yourself a _pacifist_ with talk like that. Y'ull lucky that boy ain't pass a fist your way in all this time, an' believe me, he'd be more than willin' with the ammo y'been tossin'. He knows y'been callin' him Snap-jaw, an' trust me, he ain't too keen on it. He might be tucked away back there, but he ain't deaf, and he don't forget."

Rubbing his ear awkwardly, Freddy debated if docking now would be his best option out of the conversation that was bound to pull him in.

"I always said it was a bad idea t'bring in such a no good brute t'be hangin' 'round children. You tell me what good lessons a pirate can teach a bunch o' innocent young'uns? We're out here bustin' it all day with morals o' sharin', carin', an' bein' good, an' trade 'em over to a connivin' fox who throws all that out the wind'a for lootin', swordplay, an' the like! Y'tell me, how in the hill is that is that a good role model? Boy belonged in some harbor fair, not here. I dunno _what_ they were thinkin' when they brought him in." the bunny grunted, tucking the bass close.

"Maybe they were thinkin' we shouldn't be judged by our covers, Boniface. If there's one thing children know, it's instant judgment can be detrimental; an' y'right, we try our hardest t'let'em know that it's absolutely alright t'be yourself, because that's the only person y'ever should wanna be. That we can be friends with anybody, _especially_ those who seem different, out o' place, an' curious. Maybe y'missed a few lessons of your own, but Foxy was never afraid t'be himself, and the children loved him for it. He excited 'em and entertained 'em in a way we never could. And it's...just not right how he's been left t'the side all these years."

Her angered tone simmered to a meek injury, wings lowering to rest along her middle.

"Y'ull never got t'see his shows...but he was different with 'em. Y'think him so savage...an' he just wanted t'share the fun. He listened to 'em...they were his crew. A captain's nothin' without his crew." she noted softly, gazing at the wooden planks at her feet.

A moment of silence passed as Bonnie took the time to stand to his feet, adjusting himself near his dock. With a light sigh, he glanced at her, leaning along the neck of his bass. "Chica...it's only a matter o' time before–"

Click!

His ears twitched as she stepped back into her dock, shutting down into stasis for the night. His lids capped in slight agitation, rocking the instrument back and forth. The conversation was done, whether he liked it or not. Rotating his neck, his eyes rolled toward the bear, the quiet soul for the night.

"Am I wrong for keepin' it honest? I mean what does she think is gunna happen to his broken down self after all this time? I haven't seen the fool in quite a while, but I can't imagine his state is anythin' presentable or fully functional. Especially not with that jaw o' his. It's been _years_ , Freddy. When 'em folks suddenly remember...he'll be scrapped for sure." Bonnie reasoned, though his voice held more concern, a first for the night. "An' if he gets scrapped..." His eyes teetered toward the bird, "I can't imagine how she'll handle it."

Stepping back into his docking station, Freddy shook his head lightly.

"Enough of this for tonight. What's done is done, an' I respect her wishes to do what she wants concernin' it. Foxy is his own bot. Never was there a time he didn't do what he didn't want to do. He'll only see Chica. She was part of his show. He trusts her. If he wants to be comfortable in his retired days, that's fine by me. Like it or not, he is, an' always was, part of the Fazbear family. An' extended part...no less." the bear said quietly, glancing toward the yellow bird.

"...We just gotta take it a day at a time."

He paused a moment, glancing back toward the bunny.

"An' it wouldn't hurt for you t'be a little more sensitive on the matter...Y'know she's got a soft spot for him."

The bunny rolled his eyes, sliding into his dock, "Of course! Girl had no chance up against his devilish charm an' smooth talk. Got her in straight shambles an' he ain't even gone yet."

The bear couldn't help but slip a chuckle.

"Sounds like you're jealous."

Tilting his head, Bonnie settled, "Actually, Fred-bear, for once, I think I'm perfectly fine where I'm at."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm really glad I've been receiving positive reviews for this. It's always nice when something you do for fun is a bonus enjoyment for others. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I really do appreciate it._


	4. Four

Four

Her eyes lit up as her waist swung from side to side, mimicking the orders of Freddy's song as every other child before her matched her motions. Directly in front of her danced a small child, soft brown hair looped in bouncing pigtail buns, unable to follow the dance entirely due to the large plush locked in her arms. A Chica plush.

It was not new, as the doll seemed very loved, though very well taken for, and so much that the child had found a small pink dress just to right size to fit the plump little chick. The yellow and pinks popped against the girl's warm skin, and Chica couldn't help but focus wholly on the child jumping around with her gap toothed grin. It was moments like these that swept the bot into full adoration of the pure innocence of human children. Nothing could ruin this moment for the child; she was free and happy to be who she was, in this moment.

The bird only wished she could share in the child's joy, one on one.

She missed the floor dances she used to perform, the little ones marching around or behind her in a line, all taking pride in their little parade. She missed the hugs from her fans and the excited stories they would share with her, truly believing that she was listening to each and every word...and truly, she was. She missed the interactions that humanized her, rather than the limits that robotized her. She missed everything that made the old days worthwhile and exciting...the days when there were four performers.

The song came to a close, every child surrounding the stage exhausted from the bouncing they had done, and the little girl heaved, clutching the doll tight to her chest, shoulders wavering. Her brown eyes never left the bird, her smile growing and growing to a gape as she tried to catch her breath, and with a diligent smile, Chica offered the girl a gentle wave.

A single hand lifted to wave back, leaning against the stage to catch her balance, and as the bot monitored the child, something simply did not feel right. The other children had already recuperated for the most part, sweaty and tired still, but not like this child. Her breathing seemed to shallow, the doll being choked in her solid grip as she merely stared at the bot, head rocking back and forth as she inhaled as deep as she could, but it never seemed to be enough.

Eyes clicking up, Chica found the ruckus of the room too chaotic for anyone to notice the child, as parents were gathered around the tables or near the back of the room away from the child riddled stage. Freddy was preparing for the next song, waiting for Bonnie to seat himself on his crate for the next line up. She was bound to her stage, access to the ground floor forbidden during open hours. Her wings flailed for a moment, watching as the child clamped a bit of her own shirt, feeling the obvious strain weaken her. And without a glitch in her system, the yellow bird froze, amping the volume of her voice box above the roars of the children, "OVERBOARD ON THE SILVER HOOK! ALL HANDS! OVERBOARD ON THE SILVER HOOK! ALL HANDS!"

The children about the stage startled, all staring at the seemingly malfunctioning robot as her wings rose up and forward, head rotating from side to side. The noise woke the adults from their casual chatter, everyone snapping their attention to the odd behavior, and even a few employees emerged from the counter space, questioning the actions of the creature's programming. The alert repeated without fail, delaying the performance as Freddy and Bonnie remained silent in her sudden fit, heads tilted toward their right as some of the younger employees spoke of their confusion in hushed tones, unaware of how to deactivate the action. This had never happened before.

"OVERBOARD ON THE SILVER HOOK! ALL HANDS! OVERBOARD ON THE SILVER HOOK! ALL HANDS!"

Down the hall echoed a heavy pair of boots until they hit the carpet, an older man wearing a polo with the Fazbear logo along the pocket.

He rushed into the room in haste, eyes scrambling the room for the bot, finding her stationary on the stage, but looping the message without hesitation, wings aimed directly in front of her at the one child who hadn't backed away from her intimidating actions. Maneuvering around the clusters and tables, the worker knelt at the girl's side, realizing the child was struggling to stand, and he offered his arm for her to lean on, "It's gunna be alright, sweetheart." He looked up quickly, waving an arm, "We have an emergency! Who's child is this? Does she have any allergies?"

"That's Akeelah!" one child pointed out, and at the sound of her name, one of the parents near the back rushed up, her face a mask of dire panic, "Her mother just went to the restroom –Krystal, go get her! Akeelah's having an asthma attack!"

The sense of confusion lifted for immediate concern as the girl was whisked away to the back of the room, a spread path for the man who lifted her up and sat her on the register's counter, guiding her shaky breathing with the lift and set of his hand, "It's alright, baby girl, my little boy's got asthma, too. You're gunna be alright. We're gunna get your pump an' your mama. Just try t'keep steady." She disappeared into the chaos that sympathetically surrounded her, and with all the commotion that eventually settled down, her presence seemed to vanish from thin air with a group of others who appeared to know her well. The older man adjusted his cap, eying the bot still loyal in her alert as the children on the floor cleared out of the area in fear. He marched directly in front of her, patting his hand along the floor of the wooden stage, "Raise anchor!"

The yellow bird settled into her stance, the audio loop severed.

Her eyes clicked about, finding the worker offering her a light nod, a small smile hidden away under his grey mustache.

"It's been a while, Cook."

His voice had been low, but the slight tilt of her head acknowledged his words, not another word between them. They had both been from an era nearly forgotten. A time that only a certain generation could remember. And in that moment, they were both eternally grateful for it, for the sake of that little girl.

* * *

It remained quiet an hour after closing. A half hour after the guard settled down. And fifteen minutes before Bonnie could take it no longer.

A disrupted show always put a stint on his day. It threw off the schedule. Rattled his programming. But he hadn't been prepared for what had happened earlier. Never in all his days had he witnessed such a traumatic event. Traumatic for them. Traumatic for the children. But his disappointment was overridden with fascination at the pure blatant moxie Chica had pulled. It wasn't like them to break character in such a way. It had completely stunned him into silence. Until now.

"That was, uh...quite a day, earlier." he noted quietly, eyes glancing over toward Freddy, the bear's own gaze passing on to her.

Her head only tilted a bit, looking at nothing in particular.

Perhaps Bonnie wasn't the best to pry into something like this. Adjusting his tie, Freddy's ears twitched, turning towards her. It was rare when she denied him any explanation of sorts, and he doubted this was something of a secret she would prefer to keep. She was just worried. Still worried. The health and well being of the children was out of their hands once they left the facility. Unless that child returned, they would have to hope for the best. But she was where she needed to be, right now. At home, with a doctor, with her parents...where ever she would be safe and taken care of.

"If it wasn't for you, things could have gotten a lot worse." he murmured softly, and her eyes trailed toward him, finding a gentility to his curiosity. She couldn't be cross with Freddy...he always listened.

"If you don't mind us askin'…" he started, leaving the rest to interpretation, but she knew exactly where he was getting at, for the both of them. Her wings tucked in, eyes gazing about until she sighed, shifting from side to side.

"Back when Pirate Cove was up an' runnin'...Foxy an' I got an update that y'ull never got."

The two musicians shared a curious glance before she continued, unaware they had been left out of such a thing.

"We got programmed with safety codes that all the employees knew back in the day. If a child needed medical assistance, or was chokin', the show would pause an' we'd yell out the code until the child was properly tended to. Only the deactivation reply would let us know the danger was taken care of, an' we could resume the show. Obviously the codes were based on a Cove specific emergency, but they existed for the safety of the children, an' kept vague so we wouldn't raise panic among the other children who were unaware of what was happenin'. Front stage never got the update, heavens knows why not...mighty important, I'd like t'think." she sighed, running her wing along a popped feather.

"Meanin' only employees who were around back when the Cove was active would know y'weren't just short circuitin'." Freddy hummed in thought, eyes glancing out toward the tables, "Aren't too many o' those left."

"I honestly wasn't even thinkin' about that. I'm just relieved there _was_ a fella who knew the code. Responded an' all that..." The tip of her wing tapped her cheek, "Otherwise I would'a been–"

She froze mid-sentence, head twisting toward the hallway with widened eyes.

"Oh, goodness, I can't believe I forgot! _Foxy_!"

"Somethin' tells me it's awful hard f'ya t'forget." the bunny muttered, but she pivoted on her heel, nearly stumbling down the side stairs, his words deaf on her ears.

"Careful, Chica! What's going on?"

"Oh, Freddy, I forgot! I forgot if I say the code, it pauses the show! Meanin' if Foxy heard me earlier, he'll be locked down until he hears the release! Y'know what _happens_ if we stay in place for too long!" she prattled, waddling between the tables and chairs as quick as she could.

Paws lowering from his concerned stance, he took a step forward toward the steps, "D-Do you need help?"

Peering back, she neither slowed nor lagged, but merely waved a wing, "No, no –I dunno how he'll take if he sees you bargin' into the Cove in its current state. Stubborn fox got his pride, an' he'll never forgive me if I squander it." her voice trailed off as she hurried down the corridor.

The dark room held a solemn silence between the two band mates, gears whirring as Bonnie shifted his weight, leaning along the edging of the stage.

"...Freddy, if that boy don't wake up–"

"I know."

The bear's voice was quiet, for it was all he could say on the matter.

* * *

The door wheezed as she brushed it open, violet eyes darting to and fro.

"Sugared fudge! Foxy? Foxy, are y'alright?"

The status of the room hadn't changed a bit, still as cluttered and clustered as ever. The box she had turned seat, still where they had left it. Oil drips staining the floor.

"Foxy? Raise anchor! Raise anchor, captain!"

A jolt of whirring stirred from her left, a glop of static warping the airways as the pirate's voice twisted in an odd filter before clearing up to his normal scratchy warmth, "Whuuuu-aaat-t-t th-the Davy!" His torso lurched forward, flinging a few boxes from their second tier and scattering the lightweight napkins and paper plates within them. The fox's head jilted a few times before his hook broke the twitch, confused and dazed as his eyes booted up their focus once more.

"Take it slow, sailor...let your systems get back online."

His ears bounced up, following the concern of her voice, and remained still until all of his functions felt balanced enough. Rubbing his head, the bot glanced about, finding Chica nestled beside him, holding his left arm to keep him balanced in his seat. He blinked, the glow of his eye weakened for a moment before brightening back up. "Wull, sink me ship, an' here I thought ye' were cross wif me." he joked, finding a chuckle in his recoup, but it barely lasted as he suddenly struggled against her grip, "The code! Lass, did ye'–"

Her wing patted along his arm, eyes calm and assuring, "It happened a while ago, Foxy. It's after closing."

His ears lifted as he glanced toward the door, finding the hall lights off for the night.

"After...closin'? How long was I out fer?" he muttered incredulously, recalling the chaos of laughter and chatter the humans always brought with them down the halls and past his room. It had been the last thing he had heard before his systems froze.

"...A few hours."

His eye widened, head snapping toward her, "A few hours? Wull, no wonder I feel _weathered_. I got jammed!"

Her eyes fell away toward the floor, sitting back, "A child was having trouble breathing. It was the only thing I could think of."

The fox's head tilted, ear lopping in its slot. A child in danger trumped any of their own concerns, even if it meant a total system shut down. It was something they were both aware of, and had both agreed to, whether they realized it or not. Perhaps it was in the very core of their programming. Perhaps it was something supernatural. Whether it defied logic, or not, their sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Aye? An' the child?"

His voice was quiet, though sturdy. Had anything truly horrific happened, the bird would have worn it on her sleeves.

"They took her away...I think she'll be alright."

Her eyes held a constant worry, but there was nothing she could further do for the child. She had done her part. Now, she could only hope.

His hand twisted against her wing, offering her a comforting pat.

"Y'done good, lass. I'm sure the wee tyke thanks ye'." he suggested softly, arching a brow when she released his arm, brushing off the dust wads clung to his fur from the fall.

"It's been so long, I had completely forgotten it would lock you up, an' that's the last think you needed, freezin' up like y'did." she huffed with a shake of her head, "We were lucky; we had one employee who remembered the code. Even called me Cook." she chuckled shyly, and the pirate grinned, patting off the rest of the dust as he tucked in a leg to lift himself up.

"Now, those were golden days, 'ey, chickee? Me an' me Cook, an' that's all we ever needed. You, me, an' the crew." Knocking a fist against his knee, the fox straightened it to his liking, climbing along a box for balance as Chica lifted herself up, wings out to guide him. Resting his right elbow along one of the stacks, he curled his fist along the band of his shorts, head tilting ever so slightly.

"Ah, an' even so...time wins the battle. Left on me lonesome fer hours, nearly jammed fer good."

His hook twirled in his act of mocked pity, but the chick couldn't help but find the serious tone in his words. Shifting from side to side, her wings interlocked, head bowed some.

"I fully apologize for that, Cap'n. It's been a while since we've had a test run..."

The fox chuckled, sneaking her a playful wink, "Aye, that."

Her wings lowered a bit, glancing away, "...Besides, we ain't allowed t'leave the stage anymore. I couldn't've come much sooner than I did."

The sly grin of his tease faded away into blunt curiosity. Not allowed to leave the stage? What nonsense was this?

"How do y'mean, lass? What about the dances an' such?"

"We do 'em from the stage. We can't interact like we used to. It's frowned upon now."

His brows furrowed, "Who made that rubbish rule? The whole point of us bein' so customized was t'interact wif the kids!"

She winced as she fumbled her wing tips, unsure how to avoid her comment on the matter. Never had she grown so accustomed to how things were managed nowadays, as the longing to play and dance and do what she had always been meant to do had always haunted her since _that_ day, but it had been years now. Habit had replaced her motherly yearn. The children still enjoyed their show, yes, but with their lack of interaction, they had become a far away ornament contained on their stage. A music box, instead of a character. And back when fear had been minimal amongst her youngest fans, she now had to face the reality of her intimidating size to them. They no longer trusted her the way they used to. She was no more than the robot they imagined her as. A fluffy, pudgy, unfeeling robot. And if she were to approach one of them...

Her silence provided the fox with a dark sense of understanding, a slow and steady dirge to haunt his thoughts during his silent days, what lurked behind the curtain. For now, the curtain had been lifted, and only now did he realize that he had been the fool. The fool who had entered in on their world, the fool who did not belong. And he had stolen something most precious from them all. How could he have been so naive? So blind to the damage he had done? The limitations he had brought upon them?

The stack behind him scraped against the floor as he leaned alongside it, gazing about the shadows of the Cove. A once proud and colorful room of cloth and paints. Nothing more than tatters.

"...Me. It was me...wasn't it?"

He refused to look at her, and though she opened her beak to protest, she couldn't find the heart to battle his words. He would deny her objections regardless. Too much time had passed. If she could simply interject _something_ to deter his word, but her own servos seemed to let her down, violet eyes locked on the creature who had nothing left to lose.

"...Ye' never told me."

She finally unstuck her lock, wings fluttering at the statement, "Oh, what good would'a done it? As if havin' ya outta order all this time ain't bad enough–"

His metallic thumb ran along the curve of his hook, the golden glow of his eye dimming.

"I understand now."

Her lids curved nervously, settling into her heels, "What now?"

"Why the lads think so little o' me. I...finally understand."

His voice was low, tired.

"It ain't like that, Foxy, honest–"

"Why do y'put up wif me? What have ye' t'gain from it?"

She froze for a moment, unprepared for such a question. Why, indeed? Was it not what friends did? The loyalty they consistently preached? The forgiveness they often lectured? What would they be if not proper role models if they could not act out such actions themselves for experience? And what would she think of herself and the role she lacked to play if she simply allowed him to wither away without a second glance? Freddy and Bonnie seemed content in letting the pirate do as he wished, including suffering in silence when all other options were exhausted. But she couldn't. She just _couldn't_. She was connected to him unlike the others. Connected through story, through acting, through role play. Connected through a better friendship, nearly best. It was never about gaining anything. It was what she feared to lose.

The fourth of the Fazbear family _deserved_ to be there. Deserved to be back up and running. Deserved more than a dark storage room making a mockery of his stage. He deserved to be more than simply a product of his time. He deserved his crew...and they deserved him.

She took a timid step forward, extending a wing, voice tender, "Foxy..."

He shuffled back, head craned low as his ears pulled down.

"I cost ye' _everythin_ '. The _children_...the very _treasure_ o' this place. Ain't _nothin_ ' more precious than 'em." he muttered, brows furrowing.

Her wing tucked at her side, peering at the pirate who refused her forgiveness. Any forgiveness.

No, nothing could ever replace the children for any of them. But should anything ever happen to the four of them...They were precious in their own right, too.

"Foxy, what happened _wasn't_ your fault–"

A bit of static spouted from his grunt, silencing her. His unbalanced step carried him further from her reach, diving back to the true shadows where he felt most at home. It mattered not what she thought. Mattered not what she denied.

The deed had been done, and all had fit the crime. His one malfunction had cost them their freedom, had forever changed the way things were run. Who was he to blame, if not himself? Man? It wasn't like man to repair their mistakes. They only replaced them.

His days were numbered. Always had been. But now...perhaps would be his countdown.

"Do yerself a favor an' spend yer time elsewhere, lass. The Cove's been closed off t'the public a long time now...You have yer place...an' I'm waitin' fer mine."

Her brows furrowed, wing pointing sharply, "Foxan, if your tryin' t'throw me _out_ –"

"I'm _tired_ , Chica."

The clatter of his armature sauntered to the edge of his stage, not bothering to clear a proper path for himself or even to search for one. The boxes merely shifted and rattled, scraped and crunched.

"I've been tired a long time. I have no purpose...but there's yet t'be an end. I yearned fer the bright lights...an' now I can't even look at 'em wit'out blindin' a bit. M'suit's a nightmare. Fur's matted. Had a tail once. An' this _blasted_ jaw–" he hissed, smacking the side of his muzzle with the blunt of his hook, "I long fer the day they cart me away from this place, an' maybe finally...I can shut down."

He shambled onto the stage hidden away by the fragmented curtain, and said nothing more.

He had said all he needed to.

And she could think of nothing else.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Planning a one shot short story in this category as well. A little more light hearted, but nothing entirely sunlight. It wouldn't be FNAF if there wasn't a little darkness sprinkled on it. Let me know what you think._


	5. Five

Five

"Now repeat after me! Hey ya! Hey ya!"

" _Hey ya! Hey ya!_ "

"Whoah-oh! Whoah-oh!"

" _Whoah-oh! Whoah-oh!_ "

The chants and cheers pumped through the chorus of their hyper audience. Excited, filled with cake, tokens in hand. It wasn't like them to pick out character projection from the songs sung. Freddy was always the leader. Bonnie and Chica in back. But if any had listened carefully that day, they would find Chica's voice nearly non-existent alongside the bunny's heartfelt belt. Yes, it was still there, but her volume was low for her usual performance. Actions robotic in nature. It wasn't as if the humans would notice. It all looked the same to them. However, she couldn't help but feel she was cheating the children. She hoped they would forgive her. Still love her through her betrayal. Her focus was simply elsewhere, and no matter how hard she tried, or willed herself to, she just couldn't forget those chilling words.

Words she had never thought would come from such a powerful creature.

So ready and willing to just...give up.

His solemn voice haunted her, replaying every so often as to never forget a moment she honestly wished she could. It was a tone she had never wanted to face...a reality she wanted to refuse.

He couldn't _possibly_ have meant what he said.

It was simply too much information to handle at one time.

He had been overloaded, and between that and his near system freeze, it had taken a lot out of the rustic pirate. That was all. _Of course_ he had been tired. It had been a long day for him. She was understanding toward all of these ideas. They made sense to her. For never in all these years had a bot ever wished to truly be _shut down._ That was crazy talk. And yes, the fox had been in solitude by choice for quite a few years now, but he wasn't absolutely bonkers. He had enjoyed their talks, hadn't he? Appreciated her upkeep of him, as novice as it was, she had always tried her very best. Didn't that count for something? Couldn't he see that honest effort had been dedicated just to him? To make sure that promise of bringing him back around would absolutely happen? The bots were patient creatures, but even they had their own expiration dates. Humans had to be aware of such things. Right?

After all, no human lived forever.

As the show came to a close, Chica's wings lowered to her sides, listening as Freddy bid his usual and rehearsed goodbyes to their loyal fans, waving gently to all who eyed her.

Her eyes skimmed them in habit, making sure to acknowledge each one who had dedicated their time at the front of their stage. Children who loved her. Children who cared. Her violets locked on one particular child peering up, head lifting a bit when a much loved plush of herself covered the girl's face.

A Chica wearing a little pink dress.

There was nothing she could do.

Nothing she was allowed to do.

But everything in her very being wanted nothing more than to sweep the child into the firmest hug she could allow. Her wing nervously waved as the music gently faded to a close and the other bots settled into their casual stances, heads still turning as they eyed the children passing by. An occasional wave. Nothing more.

The child's buns had been neatly braided into multiples, all swinging gently when she turned her head or bounced in place, obviously in much better status than the prior day.

Akeelah. That had been her name. Like a pretty little song drifting off the tongue.

The child stood on her tiptoes, lifting the doll as if to show Chica that she truly was her favorite, and the bot capped her wings to her face in gentle adoration. She needn't say anything to the child. She understood. The girl giggled, tugging the plush back into a hug. It was the closest she would get to the real thing, but in this moment, Chica didn't mind. The child was safe, sound, and happy. Her worries could now be settled.

Her eyes clicked up as a couple of adults made their way to the stage, one of them, familiar.

A weekly manager by the name of Dawn Reed. A kind and patient woman with dark curly hair always twisted in a bun, but a woman of business and results. It wasn't like her to waltz around the establishment or anywhere else aside from her office during open hours. She liked the restaurant to run as smooth as silk. Everyone had their place. But today, it seemed a different occasion. With her was a plump woman, her dress flowing with every move she made. Her features predicted her a sweet nature, and when she spoke, it was found to be true.

"–wanted to truly thank y'ull from the bottom of my heart. My little girl was in the middle of an asthma attack, an' your staff just–" her hand swiped the air, "The man just knew. There was so much commotion with the kids dancin' up here that no one would've noticed her, an' I had gone to the restroom in that moment, so I was completely unaware she had worked herself up so badly. I just wanted to come back and make sure the staff got recognize for what they did, an' I wanted to thank that man."

"The man wif'a mustache!"

The child's voice peaked between the adults, her slight lisp catering to her missing front teeth.

Dawn's hand lifted, finger flicking in thought. Her other unhooked the walkie talkie clipped onto her belt and pressed the third button from her left, "Jerry, can you come to center stage for customer assistance, please?"

A few children ran passed them, but the small girl merely watched.

" _Roger._ "

"He'll be with us shortly."

"Roger...Roger...Roger..." the child whispered into the doll's head, grinning when her mother pulled her into a side hug. The girl's arms latched on as best she could, hand clutched firmly to the plush wing of her plump little Chica. Her soft brown eyes lifted as the man who had helped her, the man with the mustache, walked into the room, wiping his hands on a handkerchief and avoiding the narrow path of stumbling among the children snaking about. He tucked the material into his back pocket, adjusting the flat brim cap of his uniform before his eyes skimmed the room, finding Dawn waiting for him exactly where she had paged him to, along with two familiar faces. With a grandfatherly smile, the older man's arms opened in surprise, knuckles resting along his hip when he paused his stride, "Well, don't I know you from somewhere?" he chuckled as the child buried her face into her mother's side.

He nodded with a tilt of his hat toward the woman, "Afternoon, ma'am. I see the little lady's feelin' better today. How can I help you?"

Extending her small hand, the woman shook his palm gently, clutching her child with the other, "I just really wanted to come by an' truly thank you for what you did the other day. The parents who were in our same party said there was just so much noise goin' on, it was a miracle anyone would've noticed Akeelah's attack; an' I carry her inhaler with me, but she doesn't exactly know when she needs to be usin' it. The process is fairly new to her an' she panics an' then _I_ panic because by the time she gets to me, her breathin' is straining. An' when you can't help your baby, it's just -"

Her hand flew past her heart, unable to find the proper words, but none needed to be said.

It was an unspoken rule that all parents carried dear to their hearts. Their children were their most precious assets. _Nothing_ could replace a child, nor the love a parent carried for them.

"I just wanted to make sure the manager knew an' everyone who helped got their credit due. I know most people wouldn't even bother, but I like to report a good thing when it happens. I feel those are just as important."

Her voice was sincere as she smiled, and Jerry scratched along his cheek with his thumb, nodding toward the stage, "Well, I do appreciate that, ma'am. Here at Freddy's, we make sure our patrons are taken care of, an' that it's a safe environment for everyone."

Dawn nodded in firm agreement, watching as the child peered up at the stage, hugging her doll close.

"But if anyone should get credit, it's Chica."

Brows furrowing in confusion, the manager glanced at the man, but he only smiled when the child hopped, lifting her doll, "Chica! She was yellin' overboard! Overboard! And she did like this!" The girl's arms flailed up and down, mimicking the bot's odd behavior.

"Overboard?" Dawn muttered with an arched brow, gazing up a the bird settled on stage.

Crossing his arms, Jerry half nodded, "It's been quite a few years. Honestly, I think I'm the last of the original crew from the old days back when Foxy the Pirate was up and working. Foxy had his own show, sea themed and token specific, but a few of us were involved. This was back when everything was interactive, and the characters had free range of the floor area."

This news appeared unheard of to Dawn as she tilted her head back in thought, unable to think of a time when she had witnessed such a display. The animatronics had always been mounted on stage. Or so she thought. Did the other managers know about this?

"Anyway, Chica had been apart of Foxy's show, dressed up with a scarf and bandana, under the nickname "Cook." The kids would know it was Chica, but the running joke would be on Foxy, thinking Cook was someone else entirely. Foxy wasn't part of the original Fazbear Band." Jerry explained, flicking a wrist toward the bots on stage,

"His entire set was built two years after we opened, designed for private parties, and some of the older kids. They tended to like him. But since Foxy was a newer bot, he had come preprogrammed with some safety codes, and when Chica became part of the show, she was updated as well. I'm just honestly fascinated that the programming still identifies a potential danger outside of the programmed show. What she yelled was Pirate Cove specific, but that's been out of order for over twenty years. It would've paused the show and let one of us know that something was wrong." he noted, cupping his jaw in casual thought.

"Well, whatever it was that happened, I'm glad it did. If you ask me, all of them things should have that safety feature. There's just so much noise an' screamin', you lose track of what's going on sometimes. I thank all of you. You, too, Chica." the mother chuckled, brows lifting in surprise when the bot waved.

The child waved back, her gapped toothed grin shining through.

It was a few moments before the two made their way toward the front, leaving the employees behind.

"Where was this Pirate Cove? I've never seen that, and I've been here five years."

With an airy snort, Jerry nodded his head toward the hallway, "Just down the hall. We've been usin' it like a storage room for the longest time, that's why. We had a mechanic in for a routine check and I dunno what he did, but he managed to snap one of the old rotary belts in Foxy's jaw. Boom, broke his forearm. It was supposed to be a simple fix, really –the jaw. Guy's arm took a while to heal up."

There was a light chuckle.

"Any who, the company that was supposed to send their back up mechanic never showed, and the company eventually fell into bankruptcy. We never got ol' Foxy fixed. An' a real darn shame, too. Foxy was a fun show. Reminded me of my Navy days."

He shrugged lightly, "Not to mention the business we lost. We always had our loyal folk in these big ol' rooms, but the private parties were a nice bonus. Their own room, customized to their kids, it was nearly impossible to get a party in there last minute. Room was reserved for weeks."

Crossing an arm under her chest, Dawn curved a few fingers along her lips, eying the few kids playing tag to her left. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me we have a forth mascot just...hanging out in a back room?"

Eyes skimming one of the newly set tables, the older man took a step toward his right, scooping up a monogrammed cup and hanging it to her, finger pressed on the oddball of the bunch.

Her head bobbed in realization, eyes darting between the cup and the stage, "Ooh, the red one! Oh, yep, it's a fox. Duh, Foxy. We have the toys in the game room."

"That's the one."

"...That question still stands. It's just...here? It just needs a work order for the belt? We're not renting out a room because of a belt?"

The bots on stage barely moved from their occasional eye movements, but Chica didn't move at all.

She didn't dare.

Adjusting his cap once more, Jerry shook his head, "Ohh, I dunno about that now. Way back when it happened, yes. But as sturdy as these guys look, they're delicate machines, an' if they're not tended to, they'll fall apart. I mean, we have this one guy who comes around once every few months for a fresh tune up and part replacement. They don't put belts in these guys anymore. Too many hazardous complaints. The armatures are all updated now. For what it's worth anyway. These guys still have older framework, but what I'm sayin' is you're not gunna find any place willin' to salvage what we got. It's either maintain 'em, or replace 'em."

* * *

 _Author's Note: The other day I checked the chart that lets you know who's reading form where, based on the IP address, and it's super neat to find out people from all over the world are reading this. It makes the world seem not so big. Thank you!_


	6. Six

Six

Dawn had been curious of the stolen opportunity the restaurant had lost all those years ago.

Jerry found no reason not to indulge her. However, he did warn her. And just after doing so, they retreated the hall, out of sight, but barely out of mind.

The last show of the day had been done with, leaving the children free range of the floor space, but even more so, leaving their entertainers stationary on stage. The lack of available conversation between them did nothing for the anticipation they were all feeling, knowing any possible visit to the Cove would mean big changes in the future. Positive. Negative. It didn't matter.

Well, it would matter to her. The second half to the main crew of the Silver Hook. It would surely matter to her.

 _It'll be fine. A work order! That's a good thing. It'll be fine._

Her mind clicked to his current state. His tattered suit. His broken jaw. His corroding armature.

 _Maintain 'em or replace 'em._

Her eyes darted from side to side, wings fluttering at her sides. No, she had to focus on the positives. They would fix him. They wouldn't possibly – _couldn't_ possibly replace Foxy the Pirate. He was his own namesake! Jerry would tell the manager all the good that would come out of Pirate Cove if fixed up, of course. All the money it could make them. The good business it would do. Sure, they would lose a storage room, but they didn't really need that to begin with. It was just all those lazy workers who didn't bother to find the proper closet and such. Dumping it all on poor Foxy as if he wasn't part of the Fazbear family.

He was. Very and truly. And even Jerry had enjoyed Pirate Cove when it was up and running; he had said so himself. What a wonderful opportunity it would be. Finally, after all these years. Foxy could be proud to be himself again. Could be proud to roam these halls. And his fiery spark would be back. The old Foxy. The true Foxy. The Foxy she remembered.

And he would be loved.

He was deserving.

She swore it on everything she had. Every pump and pulse of her mechanics. The smiles of her fans. The cheers of the children. Everything she held dear. She swore on it all. He was deserving.

 _It'll be fine. This is what we wanted. What he needed after all this time. The boost in his day. It'll be fine._

The sunset couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

"Freddy, I _have_ to ask him what they said! This might be it! The tune up he's been waitin' for!"

Wincing awkwardly, Bonnie offered the bear a slight shrug of weariness, unsure of how to deliver the possibility of any other outcome. Freddy had side stepped as a blockade into the stairwell, blocking the access point to the ground floor. It wasn't to forbid her. But he had to prepare her. Somehow.

"I know, I know." he uttered gently, paws balancing the air for a moment, "Just, let's take all this excitement with a grain of salt. We all heard some things today an'...we can't just jump the fence with it." His blue eyes dimmed softly, voice balancing on a static whisper.

"Well, we ain't gunna find out if I don't talk with him. What's the harm in that?" she pleaded, wings pressed.

Lids curving softly, Freddy's paws fumbled in his own grip. The list he could create was threatening in its own right. Chica was a strong and determined soul, but nothing like this had ever threatened their humble little home before. On his crate, the blue rabbit shook his head softly, choosing for once to remain quiet on the matter, and it was something Freddy could only be thankful for. But the concern in the bunny's eyes spoke volumes as he twisted the tuning knobs in habit.

Head lowering a bit, the bear peered at her, a soft sigh escaping.

"I just...want you to be aware. For anything."

He could think of nothing else to say. He doubted there was anything else he could say. He stepped to the side, freeing the pathway to the thick stepped stairwell, watching silently as she waddled down the steps, across the room, and down the hall.

The remaining bots remained soundless. Only the cameras above panned.

They followed her through the hall and stopped when she did at the shut door of the Cove, her eyes clicking nervously.

She had to know.

She _had_ to know.

Pushing against the door, the bird found it stuck in place. Nothing the twist of a knob couldn't cure, though she always found it harder to do so with feathery tips. She managed regardless.

Or, so she assumed.

The door still wouldn't budge. It wasn't locked, as none of the party rooms carried locks on their doors for the safety of the children, but there seemed to be a barrier blockading the pathway of the swing. Perhaps a box or table. But the humans had gone in earlier, she had been sure of that. Another push.

Only a smidgen of an inch.

And it seemed cardboard was clogging the further she pressed.

Her brows furrowed.

Never before had the doorway been bombarded with clutter. That area had always been the clearest, especially from employee use.

This–

This had been on purpose.

Smacking her wing against the doorknob, the round handle jiggled abrasively, echoing in both the hall and the Cove.

"Foxy, you open this door right now!"

She stood for a moment, awaiting any sense of movement. Any sound. Anything.

With a huff, she pushed against the door again, only gaining another quarter of an inch, barely any progress. She waited again. Nothing again.

Leaning her weight against the door, something popped and scratched on the other side, but she didn't care. "I'll do this all night if I hafta! One way or another, I'm gettin' into the Cove! An' don't think for a second that I'll stop just 'cus the sun comes up!" she snapped, shoving the door over and over and over.

Bit by bit by bit.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

"Oy, knock it off, y'mad woman, or ye'll give 'em somethin' else t'replace!"

The chick froze in place, staring at the barrier that muffled his voice, wings suddenly beating at it in desperate slaps, "O-Open the door! What did they say? _Please!_ Foxy, what did they say?"

Her eyes shifted from side to side, afraid to move from her spot for fear of missing any precious news, but all she caught was his weary sigh. He was still by the door. Good.

Pressing her head against the door, she released a broken static filled sigh, cracked and caked with fear.

" _Please_."

A soft grunt.

"Thought I told ye' t'spend yer time elsewhere."

Her voice was tiny, but relentless. She wasn't going to give up. Not now. Not ever. And it was going to be a long night otherwise.

" _Please._ "

With a bitter grumble, the door clicked forward, bumping her head only lightly. Her eyes clinked up in fear, but a tiny smile fought through when she realized it was to unstuck the damage she had created on the other side. With a rough shove, the boxes tumbled, creating a light racket, but nothing too alarming. Boxes scraped across the floor. A light thud indicating an impatient kick.

"...Stubborn woman..."

The door unlocked a crack. Nothing more.

It hardly stopped her from nearly swinging it right into the pirate, hinges creaking desperately.

It took everything in her to remain to herself, wings tapping nervously before her when she finally locked eyes with him. He didn't hold the gaze very long. The comforts of his barriers were calling him.

"What did they say?" she whispered, head dipping, "I know they came back here. The older human had nothin' but good things t'say about ya', Foxy; he was part o' the original show an' –well, ...what did they say?" Her voice had grown timid to his quiet nature, unsure if he was paying her any mind at all. He seemed lost in his own world, gazing about the room as if memorizing anything he could.

"...Foxy?"

His ears twitched, eye shifting about.

"Aye...two of 'em crept back 'ere. Wasn't expectin' none t'show, so...browsin' as I do. Gave the lass a good fright." he muttered, gazing down to his hook, rubbing a metal thumb along the curve.

Her wings settled nervously against her gut, head bobbing, "Th-That was a manager. She seemed interested in getting a work order." she offered in a tiny, but hopeful voice, watching for any kind of reaction from the bot. He appeared to have his strongest poker face that night. Indifferent to the news. Indifferent to her. He leaned along a stack, supporting his weight on his better knee.

"Somethin' like that." he noted, wincing when the bird's patience finally wore thin, wings snapping to her hips.

"Y'hearin's always been so pinpoint until the day it matters? Y'suddenly lose audio? Got a lose wire? I doubt y'stopped payin' attention with 'em right in front o' ya! Dang it, Fox–"

"They spoke o' work orders, yes, _alright_?"

Her beak closed at his harshness, quiet for the moment.

Work orders were good things. They always fixed the problems. They preserved. The provided. They catered to their rare and interesting frameworks. Her wings lowered, lids curved.

"...I don't understand...after all this time, wasn't this what you wanted?"

The lightest of snorts.

"Aye...though, how goes the ol' sayin'?" he muttered, offering her a solemn eye, "...Be careful what y'wish fer?"

* * *

No. He had to have misheard. They wouldn't dare. He was one of them. Very important. Direly important. They had no idea _how important he was_.

The songs swirled around her head, not an attempt of movement on her behalf. The children had been the first to notice, some still dancing, others watching her curiously. Chica always did her dances.

Work orders were supposed to _help_. They were supposed to _fix_. They were supposed to do anything _else_ but remove Foxy from Pirate Cove due to his status. What good would that do anyone? That manager had made it all sound so promising. _Surely_ she couldn't have been so disgusted that _disposal_ was her only option.

A few fingers pointed her way, from child to parent, from parent to staff. They eyed her curiously, finding her lack of actions note worthy. Chica was frozen. How odd.

A Pirate Cove without Foxy was a Pirate Cove no longer. What good was the Cove without a pirate to claim it? And what good was she as Cook with no captain to call her own?

She seemed to stare at the floor, wings at her sides. Freddy and Bonnie moved flawlessly, continuing their show without a hitch. But something still seemed odd among the ones that worked. Something seemed...off, in general. A portion of the audience still followed the show, but the loyal members, the dedicated fans...they whispered to one another, confused and concerned. What was wrong with their furry friends? There had always been a warm connection between the robots and the children, a connection that assured them that there was something more to the animatronics than just armature and a voice box. Something more than preprogrammed movements and songs.

Something more human than any adult wished to see or notice.

Something only the children understood.

"Chica's sick!" one of the smaller ones yelled out to their mother, pointing a pudgy finger at the motionless bird once the last song came to a close. And for the first time in years, the stage curtain gently cloaked the beloved mascots of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

"Thank you everyone for coming to visit Freddy and his friends today! The Fazbear Band is going to take a little rest after their big show, but we welcome you to enjoy our game room with a complimentary cup of tokens for every child with a party room wristband. Our Fazbear Band Roadies will provide you with your cups at the prize corner counter. Have fun, and remember, Freddy and the gang will be here for your next visit of family friendly fun!"

The manager's cheerful voice cut from the speakers as the children accepted the offer. After all, free tokens were just as promising, but the youngest ones eyed the stage, still concerned for their favored animals. But there was nothing they could do. Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie needed rest. That much, they understood. And everyone needed rest after a big party. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they needed a nap. It all made sense to the minds of five year olds.

A young woman in a navy jumpsuit weaved through the crowd of eager children, lugging her toolkit along her side, the tools within crunching with every step. It wasn't often when the bots froze up on stage, but it wasn't unheard of. It was why they were still allowed free roaming at night. Standing in place for too long seemed to lock up their joints. Older models. But they would have to make due.

Jogging up the steps, she swept past the curtain, finding a cloud of darkness among the massive shadows against her. It was often forgotten just how big these things were when compared to a human being. She never understood how the children were never afraid. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they were limited to their stage. Flicking the edge of her cap up, she adjusted her dark side bangs before she got to work, snapping on the dim back light that allowed her some decent viewing.

"Alright Chica, que pasó?" she uttered softly, setting the kit on the ground and maneuvering behind the animatronic, fingers slipping under the fold of the bot's head and unsnapping the fixtures that kept the chest of her body suit in place. Peeling the heavy material back, she unlatched the panel and with a small flashlight set between her teeth, the young woman peered in. Odd. All the wires seemed attached. She pinched them forward just for good measure. A loose wire tended to cause all kinds of silly chaos when it came to these robots. The armature appeared free of rust which was a good sign. They had monthly maintenance cleaning, and it seemed whoever was responsible for that was doing a decent job –on this bot, anyway.

Side stepping around her, the woman lifted Chica's right wing, finding no resistance.

Alright.

Left wing.

Alright.

The head rotation seemed to work just fine.

"Maybe a system reset..." the woman muttered after spitting out the flashlight, checking once more for any loose bolts.

A bit of static popped from Freddy, startling the woman for a moment. His head tilted a bit, eyes closing.

Wiping her cheek, the woman sighed.

"C'mon, not you too, Freddy."

She squatted down, digging into her box for a moment. The static continued. Light. Barely there. But there. She ignored it. It was simply noise to her.

Language to others.

"Chica! … –Chica, move! They'll shut the show down for maintenance if we're not up an' runnin'."

The rabbit's voice pleaded nervously, but found it lost upon deaf ears.

Nothing.

"...Chica...the children..."

Freddy's voice gently reminded.

Her head lowered.

His eyes opened, glancing toward her.

"The children love you, Chica. They're worried. And they can't help you." he noted, lids capping softly, "If there's one thing you know better than anyone...the children come first. We know that. You know that." His eyes closed once more.

"An' Foxy swore by it."

 _I cost ye'_ _ **everythin**_ _'. The_ _ **children**_ _...the very_ _ **treasure**_ _o' this place. Ain't_ _ **nothin**_ _' more precious than 'em._

Nothing more precious.

Nothing.

She was frustrated. Angry. Upset. But it wasn't acceptable to allow it to interfere with her children. Not now. Not ever. The children were the most precious treasures. First and foremost.

Regardless of who, or what, was second on that list.

Her head dipped up, violet eyes bright, "W-Welcome, y'ull!"

The sudden cheer startled the worker, dropping the radio back into her toolbox. The voice had started slow and warped, but bounced right back into her normal perky tune. Tilting her head, the woman stepped around to the front, peering up. "Hm, weird. Alright, test run. Hi, Chica, my name's Fazbear Roadie, Anna."

The chick's wings popped open, eyes scanning the young woman, "Anna! Welcome to the band!"

Lip pouting in a small nod, the young woman shrugged, "Looks good. I dunno what that was all about before, but you seem back online. Cool."

She eyed the open wings, recalling her first induction to the restaurant. Oh, that was right. Introductions were always child friendly. Rolling her eyes with a small smile, Anna put her arms around the bot, finding the sudden snap of the bot's wings around her rather intimidating, but she allowed it. Reboots always came with a hug. She stood there awkwardly, wondering how long the embrace was going to last, until finally, the wings fell away to the bird's sides, eyes gazing to the floor. Brushing some of the feathers back in place, Anna stepped around and sealed up the animatronic's back, giving it a firm pat.

"How are you feelin', Freddy? It's Fazbear Roadie, Anna."

The bear's eyes opened, searching for the human. She walked around Chica with a light wave.

The bot nodded casually, a small smile growing, "Hello, Anna. Welcome back."

Taking note, the young woman bypassed him, "Sounds good. No reboot necessary. You scared me a bit back there." she chuckled, tucking her notepad into her back pocket.

"No need to be afraid. We're all friends here." the beat responded, and she smiled. Her use of the word "scared" must have triggered the reply. Peeking over at the rabbit, she found him gazing back, almost a curious air about him. How like a bunny.

"You're quiet, today. But you have a broken string. I'll replace that. Feelin' good, Bonnie? It's Fazbear Roadie, Anna."

"Afternoon, Miss Anna! Guitar needs tunin'!"

Shuffling back to her box, she dug around for a new string, pulling out a new, firm wire, and a pair of wire clippers. Within a few seconds, she swapped the two, and the bot strummed lightly, although no sound emitted.

"Sounds good!" he sang cheerfully and Anna chuckled, patting the head of the seated rabbit, "As always, Bonnie." Dusting off her hands, she packed up her box and slipped out from the stage.

Everything seemed to be back in working order.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm really excited for the next story I'm going to write in this category. I just don't want to say much until I have a good portion of it written out. But it'll definitely be adventurous. And not so heavily dark. I think Unrest was my solid dark one. Anything else after that seems to be...more free thinking. In terms of the bots themselves. Anyway. Thanks for the reads, reviews, favorites, and all. It's always appreciated._


	7. Seven

Seven

Quiet.

The following week was quiet.

The shows went on without a hitch during the day, but at night...it was quiet. The cameras panned occasionally. The fan hummed down the hall. The air remained thick and sticky.

It was without warning that strange men arrived one afternoon just after their final show, carting in a massive, massive crate. They had been hardly noticeable, a shadow along the wall, but they hadn't bypassed her surveying eye. They snuck in through the front door, had a word with the front desk, and waited until the manager came out. She lead them down the hall, making sure the area was clear of patrons, and didn't emerge for a while.

And then eventually she did.

Along with the strange men.

Empty handed, aside from their cart.

And they left.

She counted down the milliseconds.

* * *

"It's really true...they're takin' Foxy away."

Her voice was tiny in the night, the doors only moments ago shut for the evening. Guard barely seated in his chair.

She could no longer remain quiet on the matter, for it was staring her straight in the face, and she could no longer hide or deny the facts. Their beloved Foxy the Pirate, ripped away from their very grasp.

The captain of the Cove.

Her captain…

"It'll be...odd. I mean he hasn't shown his face t'us in a while, but boy was sure hauntin' me in spirit." Bonnie noted, though any bitterness seemed completely void from his comment. Despite how he felt about the fox infiltrating their territory...there was an obvious acceptance among them all that he did in fact have a place in their humble little abode. And regardless of how Bonnie felt about a pirate teaching children values...they _had_ seemed to adore him during his performing days.

Bonnie didn't have to love the idea. He didn't have to agree with it. But he wasn't going to add insult to injury on this situation. Because no matter how stand offish he had been with the fox, a removal of any of them was like a lost family member, and deserved a moment of respect. Freddy had remained mournfully quiet. Chica had ached for days in silence. Her near shut down had worried them something fierce, but even in her reboot, nothing had really changed. She simply acted her part. It kept suspicion off her. At least, to the adults it did.

She would never fool her band mates.

And she couldn't quite fool the children, either.

Bonnie's ears twitched, magenta eyes peering over, past Freddy, and onto Chica. Her gaze was lost on a table. With a light sigh, the rabbit adjusted himself forward on his crate, "Wull, go on." His head offered a tilting nod toward the hallway.

Her head ducked low.

"...He don't wanna see anybody. Not even me." she uttered softly, eyes closing, "He barricades the door."

Resting his foot along his knee, Bonnie set his bass down with capped eyes, voice soft.

"I think tonight might be mighty different, darlin'. An' if there's anyone he'll be wantin' t'see...it's you. Trust me on this. Stubborn folk have their weaknesses, too."

* * *

Her waddle seemed more unbalanced than usual, steps slow and nervous. The longer she took to see him, the less time she would have. It scared her into a quicker step, but would soon scare her into a slower one. What if Bonnie was wrong? What if Foxy wanted to be left alone during this time? What if he was mad at her? What if he blamed it on her? What if he was scared and there was nothing anyone could do because the papers were set, the box was here, and the pick up was soon, if not perhaps tomorrow?

Thoughts jumbled her mind, wings nervously fluttering at her sides before she finally found herself at the Cove, bolts trembling. She did her best to clear her voice box, but only a spurt of static popped in a crushed white noise. Barely enough to hear if she had been standing next to Freddy. With a shaky wing, she pressed against the door gently, as if to give it a memorable pet. It startled her when it squeaked open, the doorway clean and clutter free.

The boxes that had bricked the room were now stacked and sorted neatly, giving the area a bigger walking space. Any litter that had sprinkled across the floor had been disposed of. Tables and chairs, neatly stacked. The room seemed so much bigger...the stage so much grander.

It flooded her mind to a time when things had been vastly different. Open and fully functioning.

Happier times.

They seemed so far away.

Awkwardly standing to her left was the massive crate.

But it was open. And it was empty.

"...Foxy?" she whispered, eyes scanning the room carefully.

There was no longer anywhere to hide. But he found a way. He always did.

"...Chica."

She froze as the voice behind her uttered just as softly, and she pivoted around, locking eyes with the gruff sailor.

For a moment, she merely memorized. And though she knew she never would, she refused the option of a forgotten detail. From his patch to his mismatched teeth, she refused to miss a thing.

"Y-Y'startled me." she noted timidly.

His ears lowered a bit, watching her gently.

"S'ppose I won't be doin' it too often in future days."

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say as she broke the gaze, studying anything else. Rubbing along his muzzle, the fox took a hold of her wing, patting the flat of his hook along top. Prior to her entry, too many thoughts had bombarded his systems, of things to mention and things to note, things to make sure she would hear before his leave...and now, with her before him, it seemed everything had left him.

What could he possibly say, now that all was said and done? The crate was here. The day had finally come. And it was something they had to face.

"...I never can figure yer reasonin'." he finally mumbled, dim lit eye focused on the bright color of her feathers. Bright sunlight. Glistening gold. Always a treasure...the jewel of the Cove.

"I chase ye' out...blockade the door...bark at ye'...waste yer time...an' still ye' come. I was bloody _stupid_ fer how I treated ye'...an' ye' still come. Ye' have every reason t'be cross wif me. Every reason t'never wanna see me mug again. An' ye' risked too much fer what ye' did all these years, an' I… –I didn't appreciate it 'nuff. I squandered ye', Chica."

His hand left hers to clutch her upper arm, the wrist of his hook pressed against the other.

She was unable to avoid his gaze, a gaze of pain and desperation, a gaze of confusion and despair.

The golden light that filled his eye pulsing with a kind of strength that she could only admire from afar, for now that beacon in the night was fading away into the abyss, and would forever be lost at sea.

"I don't deserve the patience ye' have fer me, when I never had patience fer anyone. An' fer all the mess I caused ye' between yer own crew...always placin' y'in the middle. Wasn't fair t'ye'...but ask if I cared...I was jealous." he scoffed, brows knit firmly, "Why did they get t'have ye' nearly always when I got ye' only sometimes? I wanted a crew o' me own...but I could do wif just one. One was all I needed. All I ever needed...an' the Cove would be just right. It was home."

His grip lowered to her elbows, looking down at his own state.

"An' ye' never grew bored wif me...not when I was out o' hand...not when I could barely move. Ye' had a duty to yer shows, but never once did ye' forget about ol' Foxy, even long after the ship had sunk. Still fightin' the good fight...still willin' t'taint yer name wif me own. Makin' excuses fer me while I hid away like the coward I am, refusin' t' fight me own battles, knowin' what you were doin' was all in vain. An' I refused t'see anythin' wrong wif it...I let me'self mope into a lesser man. Y'said all these years humbled me...it only broke me, lass. An earlier Foxy would've _never_ let ye' suffer along wif him. He would've known not to squander ye' so." he uttered quietly, peering up as the guilt corrupted his eye.

She listened avidly, clung to each and every word, and more times than many did she want to interrupt his theory and deny his accusations, but she found it difficult to cut his words when they seemed to haunt him so. It had been years since he had spoken so passionately about anything, and despite the meaning those words held, she found herself in awe. The old Foxy bubbling through. He had simply been cooped up too long...too many thoughts...too many feelings...and only now did they gush at an alarming rate, for he was nearing his sunset, and he wasn't going out without his final say.

Her violet eyes gazed on the creature, memorizing the rough way he spoke. The scratchy approach that attacked each word when angered. The soft purity that escaped when thoughtful. Playful when he grinned. Tender when he addressed her as "Chickee" or "Cook."

And the softness when he simply said "Chica."

None could be matched.

His brows were knit, gazing at her firmly.

"I need an' answer. Ye' catered t'me nonsense somethin' awful. Allowed yerself t'be tarnished by me misery an' woe. Ye' _refused_ t'leave me be, even when I denied ye'. In all these years, I'd nothin' t'give. 'Twas no reward in it, an' yer crew knew it. I'm off t'be trashed, an' I ain't afraid. I knew it was comin' fer a while now, but ye' still had hope. Hope fer me."

His ears pulled back, irritated.

" _I'm_ the reason yer bound to yer stage. I'm the reason ye' can't be wif yer kids no more. I'm the reason yer band gives ye' attitude, an' Bonnie stays cross wif ye', an' ye' have _t'lie_ about what yer doin' or where ye' goin' when ye' wanna catch a glimpse of'a sorry pirate who's got nothin' t'show fer all yer efforts, Chica! What could ye' have possibly gained from all this? Disappointment? Shame? Embarrassment? Why would ye' bother wif a shady, washed up, broken down, scrap heap when ye' knew the odds of a successful turn out were slim t'none? Why would ye'...go against yer mates' advice an' still _associate_ yerself wif the likes o' me when y'no longer had to? The Cove release ye' long ago, an' yet, ye' _still came back_."

It grew quiet, his shoulders lowering from their agitated lift.

She had always been a mystery to him. A creature who needed nothing more than a word to be ready and willing to help, even when it wasn't wanted. Without any reward. Without any incentive. She had always been the rarest mystery to a pirate who lived by the very word of wealth.

"...Why?" he whispered weakly, gazing into her eyes in hopes that he could find some sense of closure to the anguish haunting him.

The violets stared fearfully: trapped, cornered, and threatened like the prey she was, unable to do anything but panic in her setting. It was her turn to speak, but she hadn't prepared, much too lost in the swirl of his words, in the memory of his actions, in the gentle way he held her wings. Her eyes darted from his ears to his nose to his eyes, frozen in her place, and he in his, until she refused the silence another moment, rushing into his awkward embrace and wrapped her wings tightly around him, "Because you're my captain!"

The fox locked up as she squeezed him tightly, hearing his own wears creak and pop, but it hardly mattered. He focused numbly at nothing in particular, arms hovering in their unexpected tension, and only when he heard the static fizzling below did his jaw shut quietly, gazing down at the bird cradling him so.

His eyes closed, finding the balance of rest along her back, and pulled her close, resting his muzzle along the top of her head.

"...Don't cry, lass...don't cry..."

He swayed her ever so gently, and she only held tighter, refusing to let him go.

It had been exactly twenty years, three hundred and four days, eighteen hours, thirty two minutes, and forty seven seconds from the last adoring clinch the fox had received, and not once in all that time had he mentioned anything of it.

Not once had he forgotten the precious feeling.

To know he was adored by an outside entity, smallish human or not, instead of depending solely on the pride he had in himself.

To realize that after all this time, the same action could still convey the same message.

Loyal as ever, the little bird in his arms. Loyal beyond her programming.

No further words were offered from either of them. All had been put to rest, for there was nothing else they _could_ say that would change the situation from what it was. And so they remained locked in that position until the hallway brightened ever so slightly from the sleepy dawn threatening their moment. It caught his eye as he adjusted his head, sighing softly. Time...was up.

Lifting his muzzle from her head, he pulled back a bit to gaze at her, unsuccessfully coaxing her to do the same. Surely, she hadn't gone into status locked onto him. He smiled softly. He wouldn't put it passed her. But with a gentle nudge, her grip adjusted, and he knew she simply refused any other option.

"…Chica."

A near whisper, and it still felt too loud for the quiet surrounding them.

"...The sun's risin', lass."

A small sound escaped her, tender and sheer, but her head rested along him, just for a few moments more. She dared not waste a second.

"Aren't I the blasted fool fer thinkin' I had nothin' goin' fer me in the Cove. Y'put the word loyal t'shame. Oughta call it bein' "Chica"." he chuckled, thumb grooming down a popped feather, "Thought I had lost everythin' that –"

He froze, brows suddenly furrowing, but his sudden pause lifted her eyes.

"I wasted time...That cake y'wanted. I promised...We could've done that –"

The tips of her wing brushed along his snout, a tiny smile curving.

"This was better."

The fox's features softened, shoulders lifting with a slow, playful shrug.

"If y'say so, lass. Yer word be golden."

His head tilted, knowing their time left was limited before she would be forced to return back to her docking station, and that would be it...Forever.

Gently brushing a knuckled joint along her face, the fox sighed, eye glowing ever so lightly.

"Ye' know me better than anyone, chickee. I don't frighten easily, an' I don't take a threat sittin' down. But I worry fer ye'. An' I can't shove off if I know yer hurtin' an' ol' Foxy ain't here t'rectify it."

Her wings held along his arms, eyes holding a sadness that would never be rectified.

"...There are some battles you can't fight, Foxy. Even if you try."

The tips of her wings gave his palm a gentle squeeze, her eyes gazing on them fondly. Everyone would have their day. It was something they were all quite aware of. It was _facing_ that day that shocked the reality back into them. And they had all been rather lucky. Updates and tweaks and maintenance…

A metal paw.

A silver hook.

Her own bright sunshine feathers.

And gently, gently, gently...they released, knowing time had been up long ago and dangerous boundaries were being pushed.

"Don't worry about me, captain. I'm sturdier than I look." she offered him a tiny smile, and the fox softly grinned, knowing there was more truth in her words than he'd ever admit. She had always been small in his eyes, regardless of their similar height. A creature he desired to defend and fight for, though it was never required. She was the glue of the Fazbear band, the soft touch that every show needed. The voice that had always kept him going.

He watched as she took a step back, lifting her wing along her head with a firm salute.

"It was an honor to sail with you, Captain Prendergast."

Resting his knuckled joints along his hip, the sailor tilted his head with a light bow, "Honor was always mine, lass. Keep 'em other two in line fer me, would ye'? Ye' always had the most sense of all of us. Finest cook in all the seas. An' a voice that'll lure ye' faster than a siren."

Her wing lowered, cupping the other along her belly as she took another step back toward the door.

Another step.

Another.

"Talk like that won't get y'nowhere." she uttered softly, daring to gaze upon him one last time.

He leaned along one of the stacked piles near him, arms crossed with a light grin.

And she burned the memory into a permanent staple, his words forever teasing her,

"It never hurt t'try."

* * *

That very afternoon, a group of strange men came along during the slowest hours, seven or eight in total. Darkly dressed. Gloved and booted. The bots were silent as the large crate was carted through the hallway, along the walkway, and outside the facility. Unmarked. And nothing more.

A regular day.

Songs.

Dances.

Pizza.

Cake.

Clean up.

Closing.

She undocked from her platform, turning toward the stairs, and though she could feel the eyes of her friends on her, she found no desire to share in her mindset with them. She simply wanted to be. Nothing more. Nothing less. To be Chica was much too painful a concept. But to exist...that wasn't so bad. It sounded promising...at the very least.

"I need some time to think." she whispered as she excused herself, and soon found herself wandering the familiar halls of her travels, unable to avoid the dark nook that creature had called home for so many years. She ignored the camera pans as she walked into the open room, bright eyes scanning left to right and back again.

Boxes had been moved around.

The curtain had been removed.

Tables and chairs shifted or compiled into corners.

Trash bins filled with nonsense.

But the crate was gone.

And with it…

She gazed at the floor for a moment, staring at the oil drops still marking their moment in time.

It hurt to be Chica.

She listened quietly, finding no disturbance in the night. And strive as she might, she knew nothing was going to startle her. It wasn't careful footing that fooled her this time.

It was foolish to be Chica.

And she found herself in cold utter darkness...the warmth of his eye once a soothing beacon. His casual gaze far from her own. His sly smile cut from her reach. And the comfort of his arms lingering only in her memories.

It was devastating to be Chica.

Toward her right there was a tiny corner. A structural divide simply to provide a support beam somewhere within the walls of the Cove.

She inched toward it, placing her head along it.

Minutes.

Hours.

Until dawn.

Static.

The only song left in her.

* * *

Author's Note: How are everyone's feels today? I would guesstimate maybe...four or five more chapters to this story, and then I'll put up the one shot, and then move on to the other story I'm excited for. It's nice when a story just flows. Writer's block is so tedious to deal with.


	8. Eight

Eight

A week bypassed.

A few more.

A month.

None could claim she shirked her duties. She guided her children through their fun times. Monitored them in their calm. Moves memorized. Lines regurgitated. Repetition. Repetition. Repetition. She loved her children. They loved her. She loved to sing. She seldom did.

The show ended as it always did, clean up at its finest. Shift switch. Night guard. Lights out.

She refused to move from her station, lazily gazing out, nothing catching her interest. It hadn't always been very often when she had chosen to visit the fox. Nothing like the past month, where her visit had become a nightly routine: peering about in despair, only to stand in her corner to mourn. And mourn she would until the last of the sun's rays entered along the walls and the first turn of keys greeted her. She was stronger than she looked. She had assured him. Perhaps she had lied. She hadn't wanted him to fret for her...what could he have done? She had tried her hardest to help him, and look where it got him. Were those his final thoughts as the strange men carted him out the doors? She had failed him…

"Chica?"

Her eyes clicked up, head gently rotating to her left.

Aside from the preset shows, neither of the boys had spoken a word to her since that day. Not to be rude, and not to be awkward, but to give her the space she obviously desired. Perhaps a month was long enough. If anything, they did have time to spare.

But not too much.

They couldn't take anything for granted.

Bonnie seemed to agree.

Rubbing along the side of his head, the bot rested his bass along the side of his crate, lifting himself to join Freddy's side. They shared a glance before Freddy meandered toward the back of the stage, emerging with a plump plush from the prize corner.

Fuzzy in its ruby fur, mismatched fangs protruding far ahead of the cloth patch, a bulbous eye peering innocently ahead.

Patting along the top of its head, the bear glanced up with sad eyes, holding it forth.

"We've never stopped carrying his prize...there're a few t'spare, but...under the circumstances...we feel it's only right t'have a proper reminder of the fourth Fazbear friend."

Her eyes peered at the tiny thing in comparison to Freddy's massive paws, eyes closing gently.

"He'd be offended," she uttered softly, a weak chuckle finding its way through, "...Too cute fer the likes o'me."

Offering a small smile, Bonnie squeezed the muzzle of the plush, watching it flop and plump back into place.

"Y'sound just like him, darlin'. But it'll hafta do. Slick fox best not complain' about it. It's the best we got...an' at Freddy's, best is what we offer. For everybody."

She clutched the plush from Freddy's paws, patting along the head gently, guiding the flop of its ears. The golden hue of its eye not nearly close enough to the real thing and the flat of the patch ignoring the true fact of his other perfectly working eye. Her feathers ran over the nubs of its arms, lacking in the metal paw she last held...and his hook, not even attempted. The two bucked mismatched fangs protruding from its muzzle, and the fluff of his cheeks, plump and plush.

Not a single thing about it nearly accurate enough.

But it was the best they had.

She cradled the tiny thing to her chest, desperate to alleviate the sensations haunting her since that day.

For his sake.

For her sake.

For all their sake.

Her eyes gently closed, unable to move from her spot or to release the toy just yet.

How could they have dismissed him so easily…

A main face of the Fazbear Four…

A specialty of all his own…

Still lingering in the memories of humans who had adored him so…

Her clutch grew tighter, mechanisms trembling ever so slightly.

A month, and nothing more had changed than the strange men who entered the hallway from time to time, tools in hand, carts in other. Crates in, crates out, and what she knew to be Pirate Cove dwindling away into a room of construction: of lifted floors and pulled wall paper. Wood planks broken and tossed. Tables and chairs all removed to make room. Light fixtures disabled and, of course, the dedicated drawings of the pirate himself, all in child's scrawl.

It was in desperation that she had managed to snag one of the few left when she realized the clean out was beginning all those weeks ago. Hidden away in the back of the main stage, taped delicately to the wall. A fuzzy zigzagged Foxy aboard the Silver Hook, no doubt, a slice of assumed pizza hooked along his right, and to his left, a bulbous blob of sunshine: scarf, bandana and all, wing clutched in paw. The waxy residue had been preserved kindly through the years due to the darkness of the Cove, and so she found a similarly lit corner of her own to display the memory, a token in time.

She had never witnessed the artist behind the drawing, but she thanked them daily for the gift of peace it brought her. To be assured that he had truly been loved by his audience, regardless the number. She had always known it, and never doubted, but the single shred of proof set her at ease. Let her know that it was more than her simple desire for him to be accepted. Allowed her to realize that it truly was his audience that had adored him, and not some silly soft hearted blindness.

Her head bobbed forward a bit as a gentle weight rested along it, soon joined by a second to keep her balanced. Her eyes opened wearily, finding the frames of her friends leaning along her in their linked huddle, refusing to let her fight the lowliness alone. She was free to roam to that room if she wanted. She was free to witness in the destruction of their past. But as long as she was on their shared stage, they were going to support the family they knew. The family they loved. And they mourned silently, the Fazbear three, until the first song of dawn carried the rays in, reminding them all that another day was upon them.

* * *

"We'd like to thank y'ull kindly for comin' on down an' spendin' your day with the Fazbear Band. On the bass, our very own, Bonnie Bunny."

Claps and cheers from both audience and sound clip.

"Back up vocals, our little lady, Chica Chicken."

More cheers, more claps. And an odd gathering along the left side of the stage, a cluster of teenagers among the youth. It wasn't too often teenagers were seen at the venue, as the entertainment tended to be more structured for the youthful type who still believed the bots were truly living, in their own way. A secret between the band and their intended audience, until they chose to believe otherwise. But the teens seemed to focus on the yellow bird, and on occasion, her eyes clicked over toward them, never too cautious to keep an eye on anyone willing to start trouble for the little ones around. But it appeared they had come with little ones of their own, younger siblings and tiny cousins, temporary guardians for the day. Well...that was fine. A big responsibility, but fine. Family was important.

"An' I'm your host, Freddy Fazbear. Hopin' t'see y'ull soon right here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, where fantasy an' fun come t'life!"

The bright spot lights diffused down to an easier setting on the eyes, and the casual music from the radio lifted a tiny bit on the speakers as the show came to a close, the bots peering out at the young ones heading off to eat their pizza and play their games, smiles and waves for all.

A young blond child of six or so tugged at the teenager with her, guiding her closer toward the stage as the space up front cleared, finger lifting accusingly. " _That's_ Chica!"

The bot's violet eyes clicked over toward them, finding the teen gazing up at her with a sudden sense of uncertainty. Nothing to do with the child's truth, but the size of the creature itself.

She tightened the band of her hair tie before pulling out her phone, eyes darting up between the bot and the screen, fingers tapping furiously before holding the device sideways, and the cluster of teens piled behind her, all watching the same feed together.

"That's her."

"Dude, I didn't know they could walk around like that."

"Yeah, they can. They used to back in the day. When my brother was little, they had them out here doin' marches an' stuff. He used to be scared 'cus they were huge."

"They _are_ huge. Imagine that thing walkin' around here. Yo, David, gimme a Fazbear hug!"

The teens jumbled in a teasing mob, the young ones with them hovering along the outskirts. The group roared with laughter before one of the shorter girls tucked her hair into her beanie, sighing lightly, "You guys, I thought you wanted to see what happened to Pirate Cove?"

"I went during the show," noted one of the taller boys, "There's a huge sign in front of the door apologizing for renovations. It reeks like paint over there."

The girl in the beanie crossed her arms, looking up on stage with a pout, "Aww, so it's true. Foxy _is_ gone, and the video isn't a hoax."

"I dunno. I think you guys are lookin' way too much into this."

"C'mon Carlos, even you gotta admit it's _interesting_. Nothing ever happens around here."

"Which is why this sounds desperate." the teen chuckled with a shrug, but the girl with the phone shook the device casually, "Hey, it's not just us. The video itself has a ton of views. It put Hurricane on the map. Or Freddy's, anyway. People love this kind of weird stuff."

"Well, I think it's cute and sad–" the girl in the beanie clasped the hand of her younger sibling, "I wanna go to the game room!" whined the young one attached to her, and the group wandered toward the back, all suddenly hushed in their private theories. But it was enough for the bird to mull over on her perch.

* * *

"Have y'ull notice the influx o' teenagers lately?"

The static fizzled under the rants and raves of the children playing on the main floor, but never seemed to miss the ears of his companions. It wasn't difficult to be rather observant from their limited vantage point on stage, but this bit of news seemed to ring true to the others as well. Freddy's eyes peered from left to right casually, ears lifting at the sound of Bonnie's whisper. Their usual fan base generally catered to the ages of three to nine or so, sometimes younger, sometimes older, but rarely farther out into the teenage years. By then, their loyal young ones had often found something more age appropriate for them to take interest in, and Freddy Fazbear's remained only a distant memory until their own young ones needed a fuzzy animal friend to call their own a few years later. Or, they took up part time positions as Fazbear Roadies for some side cash. Either way, Freddy's had a set genre of entertainment for a certain age group, but oddly enough, the older generation appeared to be hanging around the establishment.

It worried him only slightly.

Surely these teenagers weren't here to bother the little ones.

Perhaps they were here for games and prizes. That could always be the case. Teenagers were a competitive group and often took pride in the smallest claims.

But, even so, they never seemed to bypass the road show when it started, watching curiously. Loyally. Respectfully. And to their phones they would go, discussing amongst themselves whatever it was they were watching. It was certainly odd to the trio bound to their stage, unable to find out much more information than some popular video linked to their location. But what made it so fascinating? Freddy Fazbear's didn't offer video recordings, minus the personal ones parents took of their own children's parties. But there had been mention of Pirate's Cove lately, and that didn't make sense. The Cove had been closed off for years to the public. What was going on?

"I'm thinkin' it has somethin' to do with that video everyone keeps talkin' about. But danged if that answers a thing." the bear mumbled, watching as the manager bypassed the party room, pausing to speak with one of the teen workers behind the main counter. He nodded lightly to her question, glancing directly at the stage as he explained, though lifted his hands innocently once done with a shrug. She dismissed the meeting with a nod, walkie talkie in hand as she marched toward the edge of the stage, but kept to the left side, pressing the main dial, "Anna. Jerry. Can you meet me at the main stage?"

A spurt of static.

" _Roger_."

A bit of choppy laughter.

" _Comin_ '."

It was later in the afternoon, as most parties had been fulfilled for the day, and the last performance of the band had already finished. Most of the children were playing in the game room if not eating pizza at the tables closest to the main doorway, and for one who worked around children all day long, Dawn found it the most peaceful. Absolute silence always unsettled her, but a light hum of life was always comforting. Controlled chaos, as she liked to call it.

The first to appear was Anna. Her casual stroll morphed into a quick jog once she reached the carpet, offering a small smile to her boss.

"What's goin' on?" she asked easily enough, head tilting when Dawn retrieved her own phone from her back pocket.

"Do you know anything about that video online?"

Anna chuckled just as Jerry walked in, looking just as curious, but less informed.

Leaning along the edge of the stage, Anna glanced up at Chica, tossing a thumb over her shoulder, "Of course. Every time I step outta here, someone I know shows it to me. 'Don't you work there?' 'Isn't that Freddy's?'"

Brows knitting a bit, Jerry pressed his knuckles along his back, "What's this now?"

Unlocking her phone, Dawn typed along the screen, finding the said video and putting it on full screen, "Apparently, one of our night guards is about to get a pink slip. They recorded a night cam a few weeks ago and posted it online. Young people these days just don't read their contracts or realize the stupid things they think are funny can terminate their position. But I wanted to bring it up to you two to get your take on it. Jerry, you obviously haven't seen this, but check it out."

He watched on as the greys of the camera flickered on Pirate Cove for a few seconds, noting that the floors and room itself was still intact. After a moment, Chica waddled her way through the door, head tilting from side to side. She repeated the action a few times as she maneuvered about the room before finally pushing herself to a corner and remained there for the rest of the video.

A light airy hum escaped the man in a chuckle, leaning his elbow along the stage, "Wouldja look at that."

"It's gettin' thousands of views a day; people makin' up their own stories about what's goin' on. Notice the business we've been gettin' recently? Fired or not, whoever did it boosted this place up some." Anna added, though Dawn tucked her phone away, turning toward the stage. Her eyes fell on the bird, arms crossed.

"You did a reboot of Chica a few weeks ago, right? Could it be from that? Her coming off stage an' all that?"

Shaking his head, Jerry waved a hand, quick to clear his coworker, "Nah, they always did that. Have to, really. Walkin' around at night keeps 'em limber, otherwise we'd be havin' mechanical lock ups left an' right. You saw what it did to Foxy."

Rubbing a thumb along her cheek in thought, the manager winced, "They're just wandering around here at night? That's a little unsettling." Her head suddenly shook, "Wait, but that whole thing she's doing in the video. Is that...normal?"

Lifting her hands, Anna gazed at the bot, "I mean...she's doin' her shows flawless since I last checked her, so..."

With a small smile, Jerry lightly shrugged, "Normal only applies to people. But it's nothin' too unusual, I'd say. They were a workin' set, she an' Foxy. Like I said before, Chica is preset with notions from Pirate Cove, an' if Foxy's missin' from the equation, it's probably throwin' her off. Poor Cook's lost without her captain."

Glancing around, he found the room to be fairly empty before waving at the bot, making sure she responded accordingly.

"Ahoy, Cook! It be Shipmate Jerry!"

The bot's eyes lit up as her wing lifted in a gentle salute, huffing lightly.

"Yarr! Ahoy Shipmate Jerry! Ready yourself for adventure!"

The manager looked on curiously as Chica neither faltered nor stammered in her old programming, still as fresh as the time it had been used.

Adjusting his cap, the man with the mustache rested his hands along his hips, voice soft, but firm.

"Lookin' for the captain. Where's ol' Foxy the Pirate?"

The bot shared a hollow stare with the man before gazing left, then right, then back to him, head lowering. A moment passed before she broke the silence.

"...Apologies, crew. Cap'n Foxy is off on another adventure right now. He'll be back...shortly."

Her eyes settled toward the floor, leaving the two women mystified.

"There you have it," the older man smiled, "Cook's on the search for her captain. Poor girl. She's just doin' what she was programmed to do."

Patting her bun, Dawn nodded firmly, "Well, that's a relief. I was worried we'd need another work order put in. But we need something to keep her from entering in that room while it's going under construction. We can't afford her tipping over on debris or leaning on painted walls."

Flattening his mustache along his lip, Jerry tilted his hand out in thought, "Nothin' but a good lock will keep these guys out. That, an' the fireproof doors."

"A lock is quicker to install than a fireproof door." chuckled Anna, "Besides, those construction guys can hook one up in no time an' take it down just the same. They're almost done in there anyway, right?"

"A few more weeks." Dawn corrected, hooking the walkie talkie on her hip, "The new stage is almost done. The paints are done and they're testing the lights today. Installing a projector, too. They're putting in the carpet last. It still looks like a mess right now, but they're cleaning it up day by day. And then we get our _favorite_ inspector to make sure everything is up to code." she sighed, eyes rolling, "He approved the blueprints, anyway."

"I'm surprised," the young woman noted, glancing toward the hall, "He doesn't exactly have a soft spot for these old bots. Didn't he support the motion to keep them all bound to the stage? Too unpredictable." she huffed in a deep voice, waving her hands sporadically. Jerry chuckled with a light nod, glancing at the three on stage. Chica still seemed to be attentive, eyes peering at them every so often, but lifting on occasion at the one or two children who would wander into the area. "Yeah," the older man smiled, glancing back at Anna, "But he can't exactly have a predisposed feelin' about a renovation. Anythin' an' everythin' goin' into that room will be new. New stage, new effects, new animatronic. It'll be a whole new Pirate Cove."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ _Still writing for this. I just got a little busy this week. But Christmas and other things. Happy Holidays all!_


	9. Nine

Nine

Locked.

She rested her head along the door with a sigh for the seventh time that week, the cold, dark lump of copper sealing her way into the location. It had been weeks since she had stepped foot within the Pirate Cove, and it seemed more of a punishment than anything.

Punished for getting caught.

Her brows lowered.

No thanks to that spying night guard. A young fool fired too soon. Well, _good_. Thought she was entertaining, did he? The inconsiderate whelp.

No...no.

Clean thoughts, Chica. A clear mind was a good mind.

But a clear mind was so atrociously hard to obtain.

A brand new Pirate Cove?

Just beyond her reach?

What would that possibly be like?

What was wrong with Foxy's original stage? It wasn't so horribly decrepit that the entire thing needed to be ripped out…

And what was wrong with the wall paper that had lined the walls so diligently? Was it no longer pleasing?

Special effects? Was that really necessary? The children had come for the captain's tales, not fireworks and dazzlers.

And...a brand new animatronic?

Her brows knit nervously, tapping the door gently with the feathery tips of her wings.

None could ever take the place of Captain Foxan Octavious Xylander Prendergast, the much too formal title stamped across his spec sheets until he bluntly dismissed it for simply, Foxy. Children would remember a name so short and sharp, paired along with the word pirate, and the world was their oyster.

Simplicities were a blessing for the creature who liked to act, and then think, and never the other way around. Impulsive, by story or nightly roam, it simply was who he was. But she never forgot the name. It was always important to remember who you were...and if he wanted to ignore it, that was fine.

She would remember it for him.

Unfortunately, it tended to reminisce during a lack of patience or during a firm word, but she did her best to curb such habits. A powerful name needed to be wielded with pride and prestige, and though he always maintained a rather large ego, it was always based on things he could do, or claimed he could do, rather than who he had always been.

How could this new creature dare to fill the footprints Foxy had left behind?

No...no….

She needed to have an open mind. A welcoming mind. A positive attitude and a friendly demeanor.

She couldn't shun them simply because they had...replaced him.

She stared at the floor wearily, listening to the hum of the fan echoing faintly down the hall.

What would they be like? If Pirate Cove was truly being renovated, would this new bot be just as nautical? Would the animal fit the theme?

Her eyes widened a moment.

They couldn't possibly bring another character in from Foxy's world…

Such terrible creatures that filled his stories with dread and venture, even she would listen in awe along with the children as he wove his tales of the treacherous cretins that roamed his waters.

She couldn't imagine them replacing him with someone like Persephone De'Possum, or as Foxy always called her, the "Barber of the Wave," a determined little cut throat who always barbed off more than a bit off the top.

No, no, that was much too violent a thought. Too violent a character. It was one thing to speak of her in stories to excite a theme, but another to have such a bot perform such reenactments before children. A rival of Foxy's would be no friend to the children who adored him so. Same went for Theodore Terrier, the royal guard dog who lost his mind to Foxy's constant escapes. There was a reason the fox had a hook on his original sword hand. So the stories went.

Child friendly fun.

Perhaps Foxy's Cove wasn't the most innocent land of exploration, but as troublesome and mischievous as he could be, Foxy himself was the ray of sunshine in his dark world. The true sliver of hope that anything could be defeated if you believed in yourself one hundred percent, even if you were frightened by the threats that ailed you. He was the leader, the captain, the champion. And the honest reality that not every good creature was a perfect creature. Mistakes were meant to be learned from. Whether his deeds were scolded by Chica as "Cook," or by the children themselves, Foxy was there to learn, and in turn, set an example for the children who learned from their own teachings.

Only Foxy could play the hero in the Cove.

Who else could they possibly set in his place?

The question looped in her thoughts over and over, unable to find a proper solution without it always falling back.

None.

None could replace him.

What had these humans done?

* * *

"What do y'ull think it'll be like?"

Freddy paused from his tug on the show curtain, having found a caught notch in the track. It would only take a single moment for the entire fabric to synch into a mess in front of the audience. There would be none of that. Not on his watch. His eyes peered over toward the back of the stage where the small voice had come from, finding the owner tending to the pirate plush seated along a shelf where extra prop pieces were kept, her saved artwork from the Cove displayed just above. She was growing more sociable since that day, but the fox's memory still haunted her. It wasn't like Freddy to rush anyone out of such a trauma.

Nor was he neglecting his own sense of mourning as well.

There had been a sliver of guilt when the box had been carted away, knowing there had been so many missed opportunities to coax the bot from the dark room he had called home. Pride, Chica had called it. Freddy could surely understand. The Foxy he remembered had always had such a high standard for himself, to be the loudest, and toughest, and bravest of the four, but never did he dare step on the toes of Freddy Fazbear, the true face of their home. And never would Freddy challenge him on it, always a peace keeper and pleasant host of the fox's chosen dock. Foxy's was a soul to be reckoned with, but it had always been Chica who brought him back to his senses, or at least pinched an ear to listen. He held a different kind of respect for her than he ever did with Freddy, and it was something the bear couldn't take offense to. Chica was apart of Foxy's crew, just as she was apart of the Fazband, and it was something they both shared in her as friends and representatives of their own worlds.

But Chica also carried a special kind of patience for the fox, a patience that came hand in hand with a certain supportive blindness that only the best of friends shared...or even better than best.

It was a patience that Freddy could not offer him, simply because he didn't see the pirate in the same light as she did. She had been charmed by his stories, by his limited access, by his difference. She had found the softness in his edges, accepted his qualms, listened to his side.

It had originally been to harness a bit of information about the new and intimidating bot, as she was the only link the band had to this new "Pirate Cove," and after a bit of self negotiation, she swallowed the idea of fear and interrogated the beast as becomingly as possible, for it was dire to understand what the children were going to be exposed to. Bonnie had proposed the idea, and it seemed only fair, as the creature hadn't emerged from the Cove on his own and probably felt safe in what he knew. Throwing Chica into the belly of the beast seemed cruel now that Freddy thought back on it, but they had already known that she was to be a center character of the Cove as well, surprised as they all were about that.

But she had supported the idea. Understood it was her duty to perform it. And it was she who brought him out of his world into theirs, though she barely had a handle once unleashed. He was too curious. Too rambunctious. Too daring. But rules had to be set, and Bonnie was quick to slap them firmly as a bot who couldn't respect the rules had no place in their home.

Foxy hadn't taken too kindly to that.

But Chica had calmed him. Assured him that this _was_ his home. And promised him she would do her best to fill the shoes of a shipmate...whatever that was, anyway. Her update would upgrade a week later, and by then, she knew the ins and outs of the swarthiest lingo. And the captain couldn't be more pleased.

But as the weeks went on, her investigative tidbits softened to personality traits. Cautious pondering turned to curious wonder. And her stand off suspicion warmed to docile admiration.

It was during one of her narratives that Bonnie found the entire description much too soft for the gruff and rough sailor they had been bestowed with that he questioned her affections for the creature. She had been at a loss for words in that moment, whether by shameful fury, or by sudden realization, that her words were appearing "other than" to an outside source. And so their information network on Foxy the Pirate shut down for a bit, as she chose to filter selective answers when the pirate wasn't around to answer himself.

But the fox had never been shy to state exactly what was on his mind about what or who at that time. Though he had never been directly questioned, but his treatment of the bird spoke volumes for the band mates that quietly observed. He could be gentle, but only for Chica. He could be calm, but only for Chica. And unless Chica supported a notion, he would refuse it as well. It was a different world at night for the Fazbear Four who catered to their precious audience during the day. A world of suggestions and arguments and teasing and release to the bots that were limited to their shows and the occasional stroll.

Until that day.

And that's when everything changed.

Bound to their stage.

Foxy lost his voice.

And from then on, it was Chica who became the pirate's lone audience, patient and ever loyal.

Week by week, year by year.

Freddy said not a word, for what good would it do for either of them? To prevent her visits would only increase the urge to unite, and it truly wasn't his place to assert such power over them. He witnessed her admiration grow into something much stronger during those years, for the Cove had closed its doors for some time by then, but never once had she accepted that. Never once had she abandoned the Cove, nor the creature within.

Admiration had evolved into adoration, and it had guided the yellow bird thusly; and, now that the key component was missing, she was tending to the next best thing.

His memory.

"Meanin'?" he questioned gently, though suddenly nervous over the potential of her clarification. He wasn't entirely prepared to answer such a tender topic like deactivation. Not at this moment.

"The new bot for the Cove. Door's locked every night, but...they been fixin' it up real nice. Barely recognized it last I saw. It should be nearly done by now." she uttered softly, her eyes locked on the crayon doodle.

He glanced her way briefly before providing another gentle tug on the curtain, freeing the pinched fabric from it's hold.

That was right. They were expecting a new arrival soon. And whether they were ready or not, it was going to be dropped right into their lives, just like Foxy had been.

"...Couldn't say," he noted softly, "Ain't much about that world that I know...aside from what you've told us."

It was quite for a moment in their dark nook, the occasional gear whirring when one of them moved.

"Are ya thinkin' they might wrangle ya back in there?"

Bonnie's voice was quiet, curious from his corner, but he had been easily watching her no matter how far she was. His own personal qualms with the fox had placed an invisible barrier between him and the bird, though she needn't say a thing to make it known. His bias had no place in her world, and it was something he came to accept. He had only worried for the children, originally and always. Freddy listened to reason, but Chica had always found an excuse for the pirate, prepared to take the downfall for whatever nonsense blurted from his muzzle. And the fox would always go out of his way to rile him on purpose, quick to tease, quick to annoy, quick to battle, whether by wits or anything else, they were simply opposites of a coin.

And though Bonnie would never admit such a criminal thought, he had found that the fox had brought with him a kind of test of spirit that had changed the band for the better. He had pushed the boundaries that none of them would have dared, teased the night guards at the time, meddling with cameras and rushing by their office just to give them a nasty fright, demanded to know their stories and if they were worth listening to. He was a breath of fresh air for the stagnant bots, eager to add to his database new and interesting ways that could captivate his audience. Some ideas more reckless than others.

And things had been interesting...for a time.

It was when Foxy hid away that Freddy Fazbear's turned back: quiet, calm, neutral.

And it was then that Chica found reason to sneak away to tend to him, for her loyalty was taboo now that she was no longer needed there. For show purposes, anyway.

She had wanted to mend their ordeal. To prove that regardless of their differences, the fox and bunny could get along fine. Perhaps, she thought she had failed.

Bonnie couldn't blame her.

Neither of them had put in the effort, always a constant turmoil between them, but for her, they tried to keep the peace as best they could. Bonnie had never been an eloquent speaker like Freddy, nor sweetened his meanings like her. He spoke his mind in his own way, bluntly and logically, and for the longest time, he had tried to warn her of things to come, but she had never wanted to listen. He was being mean. He was sour. Stuck in his ways.

All Foxy needed was a work order, she always claimed.

But Bonnie had been right. And truth always hurt more than the sweetest lie.

"They might." she said quietly, "I don't get a choice in the matter."

His ear bent in a bit, tilting his head, "Wull...what are y'hopin' for?"

Leaving the little shelf behind, Chica settled in her usual spot on the stage, wings patting down a few of her feathers.

"If there's somethin' I learned recently, Bonnie...havin' hope don't do a whole lot for ya. So I don't hope for much of anythin'. Not anymore."

It was quiet for a moment as the rabbit thumbed along his cheek, watching as Freddy observed quietly. Freddy found moments like these best left untouched. For each to heal in their own way.

The rabbit's lids lowered.

Some wounds required a bit of salted cleansing before the true healing begun.

"If it hadn't been for you an' all the hope y'had, that boy would'a rotted away on his lonesome all those years without a single blip to mourn him."

Her head rotated slightly, a firm glare set in place.

"What good did it do him, _huh_? All that hopin' an' for what? They _still_ took him away."

"That's inevitable, Chica! For all of us!" the rabbit barked, hand gripping his own knee firmly.

He sighed briskly, sitting back.

"Are y'sayin' all them times y'snuck off t'mend or chat or visit him meant nothin' to ya?"

The bird remained quiet, head settling into her chest. Her eyes closed slowly, wings tucked along her sides.

His magenta eyes gazed along the wooden floors, trailing to his bass, "Just because we don't get what we hope for, don't mean it was all in vain."

His words seemed to echo in the empty room, though it wasn't very empty by any means, nor was it entirely lonely. But they resonated along the walls, as hushed as he had said them. There, just in case anyone needed a reminder. Ready to shame those who forgot. Down to the door that claimed itself a Cove...through the kitchen and game room. The building itself seemed to agree with the rabbit, humming and settling its creaks and groans, and his ears twitched as he leaned to the side, massive paws cupped along his knees.

"Y'know _why_ this all bothers ya so much? The reason it _aches_ ya more than anythin'?" he muttered darkly, and Freddy gave him a warning look, not to push the situation further than necessary, but the rabbit neither faltered nor stopped, finger pointing directly at the bird, "When Foxy was up an' runnin', the kids loved him. But they weren't the only ones who did, now were they?" he noted, observing the tightness in her tuck. A bit of static spurted from Freddy's sigh, but nothing was going to stop the rabbit's lecture.

"And when the Cove closed down, their love, for the most part, faded away. Except for one lingering fan."

His head tilted ever so slightly, knowing she wasn't going to respond, at least vocally. But that was fine. She needed to listen to logic and reason for a change.

"Y'wanna dismiss hope, when it was the only thing keepin' that boy up an' runnin'? Why is it y'only think your loyalty ran a one way street? There's a _reason_ he called you the jewel of the Cove."

His eyes gazed along the room in thought, thumb scratching along his chin in habit.

"Maybe it was in yer programmin'. Maybe not. Maybe the both of ya were just more advanced than we can understand. But there was a candle lit between ya, an' neither of ya dared ta blow it out. Y'only danced around it, real careful like. Y'hoped for everythin' t'turn out all right. But what did Foxy hope for?"

Her eyes opened gently, fidgeting in thought as her beak opened, but shut as she contemplated the question.

Foxy had wanted to be shut down.

He had been frustrated. Lonely. Tired. Worn.

He had wanted the old days back, but knew they were far from reach the more disheveled he became.

He wanted to be remembered...or perhaps she wanted that more than he, but if so, then what did _he_ want? Foxy desired adventure and riches, lore and unspeakable treasures. That had always been apart of him. But what had been his hopes? His dreams? What had been his final wish?

His memory played in her mind: his eye patient, but pleading...yearning wearily for rest, but never...never would he abandon her in her state. Not if he could help it.

" _Ye' know me better than anyone, chickee. I don't frighten easily, an' I don't take a threat sittin' down. But I worry fer ye'. An' I can't shove off if I know yer hurtin' an' ol' Foxy ain't here t'rectify it."_

Foxy had...wanted her to be okay.

To be assured that in his absence, she would be able to function just as well without him.

Because he knew his departure was inescapable, and her desire for a bright future outweighed his accepted reality.

He worried for her, when he worried for none else. Not even himself.

Because…

Because…

"Foxy wasn't the kinda fella to sit around an' hope fer things t'work out right. Boy was too impatient for all that. But I betcha anythin' he'd be willin' t'wait years more if he knew he'd get t'see yer face every single time. You hoped for the better, but he hoped for _you_."

The chick's head sunk slightly, as if in shame, for the rabbit's words seemed to mean something to her, deeply and hauntingly so.

"If y'disappointed, I understand. If y'hurtin', I understand. But don't toss out all hope for everythin' an' don't plum give up on it. Y'never gave up on him while he was here, an' he never gave up on you. Why should y'start now?"

He watched quietly as Chica expelled a bit of static, frozen in her place.

Contemplating his words.

And contemplating the pirate's words.

Hope had a terrible price to pay when one couldn't afford it.

But she had claimed it so vigilantly, there was no turning back. Perhaps Bonnie was right. Perhaps it was wrong of her to dismiss it so brutally.

It was the world that was a terrible place.

That's why hope even existed.

To motivate. To learn. To live.

Openly.

Like a child.

She glanced at the table before her, head still nestled against her chest, but finally, her beak moved.

"...I hope whoever it is...honors who he was."

Freddy said nothing, but his tiny nod assured the rabbit that he approved, and it was quiet once more.

* * *

 _Author's Note: It's getting bitterly cold where I am, but being forced to stay indoors allows me to write, so there's that. Also just got myself Foxy slippers, and I've never been so excited for a pair of slippers._


	10. Ten

Ten

It was quiet for the late afternoon, as the last show of the day had come to a close and all the tables had been cleared of all dinner scraps. It was during times like these that the management enjoyed claiming a wide table for themselves as the day wound down and used it to their working advantage.

Dawn's main office was much too small for more than two people, and the smell of the fries she had been eating would have lingered. Out in the main room was just fine.

"Jerry, you know more about the Cove than anyone else here. Would you mind reading through the trainee booklet and see if it more or less matches up with what you remember? It would speed up the process if we have someone who knows those code words off the top of their head and can train the new roadies." she noted as she munched on her dinner, keeping the paperwork balanced on her lap, far from any crumbs or spills.

"No problem." the man nodded, leaning back in his chair, "But if it's anything like I remember, roadies won't be recognized in the Cove. It's shipmates. Different registry."

Head rotating along her neck with a sigh, Dawn clicked the top of her pen a few times in irritation.

"Of course...just another thing to slow down the process. That's...what? Five sets of face recognition?"

"Well, for Cove specific employees. You still might have to register everyone else. The system'll be new, yeah?"

"You know, I honestly haven't a clue. You and Anna know more about the tech talk than I do. We'll have to handle it as it comes. Anything else?"

"Dunno if it's bad news, but we're getting the delivery today." he shrugged, "Truck should be comin' around closing."

"Watch them not have enough guys to lift the box into the Cove. I need to switch my shift; these long nights are killing me." she grunted, but the older man only chuckled, "The biggest hurdle's been cleared. You managed to get the Cove up an' runnin' again within a few weeks. After twenty or so years of it being down, I think that's a mighty fine accomplishment. We'll throw you a big ol' pizza party."

"I can't wait." a laugh escaped the woman, clipping her pen into her board, "Actually, I'll claim the first show of Pirate Cove with that pizza. Have to make sure the test run works smoothly before we open reservations."

Looking up from the table they were sitting at, Dawn glanced at the bots to her right, Chica being the closest. Wiggling a left over straw toward the bird, the woman pouted in thought, "You said Chica was apart of the old show."

Gazing up toward the stage, Jerry offered a gentle nod, "Yes, ma'am. Foxy was the star, but Chica had her parts to play."

Cupping her hand over her mouth in thought, the manager tilted her cheek into her palm, "I...did not take that into account." With a firm sigh, her thumbs ran along her temples, eyes darting down to the paperwork and scheduling,

"Shoot. She may, or may not, need an update if she's still apart of the Cove show. Jerry, I have never missed a deadline and I'm not about to start now. We're going to have to pop open the box tonight, get whatever paperwork we can from it, and take what we need to figure out how this new show is going to work. I'm thinking this test run might have to be done tomorrow or the day after. The Cove's scheduled to open next week."

Leaning casually against his chair, the man with a mustache crossed his arms, "As long as you're in charge, this'll run smooth like butter, Ms. Dawn."

The two chatted amongst themselves, paperwork shifting between them before the hours grew long along with the shadows of day. The rowdiness of the nightly crowd died down after some time until the very last family stepped out, and only a few employees of the establishment roamed. It was odd to watch the day time crowd mingle after hours, especially once the night guard assumed his position in his office, or at least settled his items there.

It was nearly one in the morning before a fearsome rumble outside alerted everyone to the massive truck in the lot, nearly half an hour more when the doors propped open for a proper entry, and nearly two by the time a cluster of strange men carted a rather large crate into the halls with some difficulty, one doing his best to guide the trolly, and the rest doing their best to stabilize the weight.

It was loud and rambunctious and stressful -until it wasn't, a sharp crack snapping through the air a few times, and then a few hums of fascination. Words of thanks were exchanged, handshakes and farewells. A bit of rustling down the hall. Muffled chatter.

And then footsteps.

"-wasn't expecting that, but it's a nice change. It seems...safer. Especially if we're going to push for that whole interactive experience again."

A light yawn.

"Well...we're done for the night. I have my papers, you have the manual. I'll have Anna check everything out tomorrow, and the day after, you can walk her through what you know or read. Whatever applies."

The firmness in her voice wavered for a moment in her exhaustion.

"Thanks for staying late, Jerry. I don't like to accept deliveries by myself during after hours. It's just not safe."

"Oh, I hear ya'. You get some loons out there. But honestly, I don't mind at all. Besides, I wanted first glimpse anyway."

His chuckle followed them out the door, and the firm click of her keys promised the unusual disturbances of the night were at a rest.

It was nearly three when Freddy moved from his stationary pose, arm lowering to his side. His crystal blues peered to his right, sensing Bonnie was doing just the same. Chica had not moved. She simply stared at the seats the humans had sat in all those hours ago when discussing her own possible fate.

The deed was done.

It was here.

And sooner or later, they were all going to have to investigate and introduce themselves as the Fazbear Band...and induct the newest bot as the newest fourth.

It just didn't sit right with her. But there was nothing she could do. She was just as helpless as the day they carted him away. And she was expected to bare it. She had promised. Given her word. She was stronger than she looked.

Perhaps she had lied.

But she couldn't worry him. Leave him with lingering thoughts. Not that way. He wanted to be in peace. She had to let him.

Her eyes flicked up when a sharp clack echoed down the hall, much too firm to be caused by any human on patrol. The guard had already made his rounds, and none else was in the building. The edges of her wings fumbled along a propped feather, quietly listening for anything further.

A light crunch.

Twice.

Then nothing.

"Sounds like they're roamin'."

The rabbit's voice was hushed, but anxious, a firm reflection of all those years ago.

With a soft sigh, Freddy popped his microphone into its stand and brushed himself off. It had been years since he had lingered by the Cove or even entered it, but tonight was going to be a shifting change for all of them. After all, the Cove had undergone major construction. He doubted any of them would recognize it now, even the most loyal of crew.

His biggest concern lied with Chica.

But, she wasn't going alone. Whatever was in the Cove this time, they were going to face it together.

"Well...c'mon. We better give 'em a proper welcome before the sun rises."

He made his way toward the steps of the stage, his large paw pressing gently against the bird's wing.

"All of us." he noted gently, and though her reluctance showed, she slowly trailed Bonnie as the last to leave the stage.

The march was silent as could be, minus the creaks and whirs of their individual gears working through their mechanics. The thudding of their feet heavy, but casual, and nothing too suspicious to cause alert or alarm. With Freddy in the lead as the largest, they followed his path, his pace, his ease. The bear wasn't one to show panic or fear in his own home, always calm and collected in anything he did. It was how he was built, how he had been designed to be: to hypnotize and influence the hyper children who listened to his soothing voice. It worked on children. It worked on bots. And though he knew he could not fix the damage that had been done, he could protect them in the best way he knew how.

He took the first step.

The door was ajar only an inch, the room dark as night, or even darker.

With a barreled chest and tender knock, Freddy carefully pushed the door open, revealing a room most peculiar. The walls had been painted and sculpted with different layers of blue, thick and curly and textured as if to mimic the waves of the sea, the previous wall papers gone and done with, wooden railings lined the bottom half all surrounding. The floor, though carpet, resembled planks of wood, bright browns, patterned and formatted. The outside of the arena no longer looked like a ship, but resembled an old vaudeville stage, timbered and sanded, the above arch swirled in golds and iron, coming to a center at the top, and protruding from the very middle, a lone lingering ironwork lantern hanging from its ring.

The old tattered curtain was no more, a deep ruby tapestry now draped, very much resembling a classic banderole with a skewed star in the center, compass directions at each tip. What lied beyond the curtain was impossible to tell, as the material seemed firm in its make until pried apart by the anchors that guided it. The tables themselves were new as well, nothing like the metal plastic combinations lined along the main room, but firm wooden benches, each set attached to their tables as one unit. Six large tables and three solid rows creating ample space along side them.

Ample space for the three of them to walk without concern.

"Looks like it's gunna be interactive..." Bonnie whispered, eyes clicking from side to side as he admired the handiwork of the new room. It had been quite a while since he had seen the old Cove, but from his prim memory, he was well aware that it had been nothing like this. His eyes lingered above the center of the room, finding an odd black box with multiple focal scopes jutting out from a dome. Tilting his head curiously, he took a step toward it, nearly tripping over the large wooden debris broken apart just under his focus. His foot thumped the wood, just about jumping back at his lack of perception before realizing what it was.

A delivery crate.

An empty one at that.

Nothing remained inside the container save for broken scraps and debris, but nothing of importance.

"Uhm..."

His light mutter caught their attention, and both wandered over, peering at the rubbish left behind. Not a label to claim, but certainly big enough for any of them to fit inside.

Perhaps it was in stasis on the stage?

The humans would have had set up their base at the very least to power it up, especially if there was to be a test show tomorrow.

Eyes lifting in thought, Freddy peered over at the ruby curtain, clearing the static build up from his voice box.

"Hello? Anyone back there?"

Quiet.

Bonnie's ears twitched as he tilted his head, but could hear nothing more than the muggy dead air that assaulted his mechanisms. Glancing toward Chica, Freddy found himself wandering along the base of the stage, peeking up at the curtain. Too thick to see behind it.

Without a word, he shuffled up the wide side steps of the stage, finding the size of it reasonable for performing. It was enough to walk back and forth on, enough to give each table a bit of personal storytelling, or singing, or whatever was going to happen during the show, and even when the rest of the band took after his lead, there was still enough room to move decently.

Slowly reaching for the split of the curtain, Freddy paused as his fingers clutched the fabric, unsure of what they were to face. Of what Chica had been forced to face all those years ago. They should have been there together from the beginning.

Her feathered hand grabbed at the other half, violets peering up with a sense of determination. She was stronger than she looked.

"It's okay." she whispered, and with a soft nod, Freddy tugged at the curtain, pulling the fabric along the track wheels from above.

The inside of the stage resembled an odd optical illusion of the bow of a ship, as if the audience themselves were aboard the deck of a true vessel. The wooden trails fell away to a painted sky, and off to the right of the stage, a fantastically detailed helm, the wooden make of the wheel itself sturdy and carved with multiple designs, golden and majestic. But in comparison to the creature alongside it, the helm was hardly given a second thought.

Locked into a charging dock, powered down into stasis.

Fur shaggy and fresh. Not a tear to be seen. And armature fully coated.

The proper and only true captain of the Cove.

None of them said a word as they inched closer to the charging bot, but none grew so close as Chica, her eyes scanning him in fascination. In dedication. In desperation.

He seemed stuffed differently, or perhaps she had grown so used to his worn appearance that it seemed strange to her now, an actual form to his body rather than ragged shambles. The shape of his muzzle was certainly different, not so bulbous, but now fitted to his head appropriately, especially concerning his jaw. His eye patch still capped his right eye, and the dim, pulsing, silver glow of both eyes assured her that they both worked perfectly fine. They had dressed him in an odd striped shirt of green and black, purposefully tattered and hardly reaching the rim of his shorts, but it was a detail she couldn't be bothered with.

He was home.

A somewhat altered home, but still home.

The tips of her wings found the curve of his muzzle, tenderly combing bits of fur here and there to the shape of his face, nearly forgetting she was in the presence of others who had decided to spy on other things for privacy sake; but she smiled gently, tending to the creature she had missed so dearly. Perhaps, hope was birds like her who swore on everything they had for things to turn out alright. They couldn't truly have ever taken him away. He was the fourth that completed their team...and the only true commander of the Cove. She gazed upon his face, halfway filled with life in his stasis, finding it difficult to pull away, though a small voice nagged her to leave him be. He surely needed his rest. They could share their stories later, though it would never come soon enough. It would be impossible to describe what she had felt and witnessed, nor could she imagine she would understand the trauma he went through, but it had all been well worth it, had it not? Her captain was home.

"Welcome back, Foxy." she whispered, her tone ever so sweet.

And it would have stayed that way, had the silver glow not changed to golden.

Her words were ripped from her when he jolted forward, the sharp snarl startling the other band mates who realized much too late. Her sloppy footwork stumbled her back, but Freddy managed to hold his ground, arm out to balance the bird as Bonnie stabilized her to the right.

The fox pulled off his dock, head tilting as he sized them up before thrusting forward once more, a threatening finger darting, "Be ye' so bold t'stowaway aboard _me_ ship wif'out knowin' yer fate. I promise ye', it'll be short, but _merciless_."

Hands lifting innocently, Bonnie took a step back from the advancing bot, wincing an eye, "Whoah, a-ain't nobody tryin' t'board-"

Swiping up his arms, the pirate curved his back a bit with a growl, "Did I give ye' clearance _t'speak_ , rabbit? Shut 'em bucked chomps before I knock ye' sideways."

Glancing toward Freddy with a dark sigh, Bonnie said nothing more; however, the fox's ears pricked when a soft voice floated in both wonder and horror, slightly turning to glance her way, "Your hook!"

The band gazed at the fox's fists, curled to protect himself at all costs.

A solid even set.

Where the silver hook had once been was now a work glove coating all digits on his right arm, but he took no notice to their shock.

"Ye' got that right, girlie. Got me a left 'un, an' a right, an' if you lot don't start talkin', I'm swingin' 'em both!" he barked, glaring up at Freddy, "You! Bear! Explain yer'self!"

Brows knitted for a moment, Freddy gazed at the creature so vicious in his entry, finding a dark pit eating away at his circuits. Bear? That...wasn't good.

The pirate shifted back a bit when Freddy offered a slight bow, "We mean you no harm, Foxy. You're back in Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria."

The fox's brows lowered for a moment, seemingly lost on the bear's words. The golden eye peered at him peculiarly, darting to Bonnie with a glare when the rabbit shifted a bit. "Foxy..." he mouthed awkwardly, standing to a balanced posture as he thumbed along his muzzle, "What gives ye' a right t'label me so familiar?"

"You're among friends, Captain Prendergast."

His ears twitched as his eye fell on the yellow bird saluting him without a glitch in her form. Her gaze never wavered, even when he approached, though less aggressively than before. The pirate skimmed her nonchalantly, resting his knuckles along his back, "Hold yer tongue, 'less ye' got somethin' useful t'say."

"I'm the Cook of the Silver Hook, at your service and leisure, Cap'n."

His disinterest grew curious, tilting his head as he spied her closer.

"Cook...I don't recall havin' a lass aboard...I would've noticed." he chuckled to himself, arching a brow when she continued, "A great captain oughta have a great cook. We're in familiar waters, sir. Docked in the mainland, at Freddy Fazbear's. He's welcomed you t'rest here an' share your stories with young'uns. They're mighty eager t'learn from the best."

The fox hummed thoughtfully, glancing at the other two as he considered the opportunity. Familiar waters? Shouldn't that have rung a bell? He rubbed along his muzzle in thought, finding nothing catching on to her words. He waltzed around the bird, admiring the respectful dedication she held in her pose. At the very least, she seemed to know her way around sea faring folk, though her accent placed her far from familiar. He lingered a moment longer before waving a hand, "At ease, lass. I can't put a finger on ye', but ye' seemed t'know me well 'nuff, _coddlin_ ' me as ye' were." he snorted with a grin, but she seemed indifferent to his comment, her eyes trading toward the others.

"Freddy and Bonnie can tour you around if you'd like. They can answer any an' all questions y'ull be havin'."

Her voice had drained of her enthusiasm, merely feeding him the basic information he required, as she knew he would be instantly fascinated by this...new world.

Clapping his paws together firmly, Foxy spun on his heel, more nimble than ever before as he stretched his arms out with a sheepish grin, "Fazbear, is it? Seems we got off on the wrong foot. Friendly faces are far an' few were I hail from. Man's gotta protect his ship, but, uh...if this lass says these waters be safe, then I abide. She seems a faithful kind."

Glancing at the bird, Freddy sighed softly.

The vacant stare she held spoke volumes.

"You have no idea." the bear agreed quietly, stepping to the side for the pirate to walk, "Right this way."

He winced when Foxy charged towards Bonnie, but only to firmly pinch a cheek, "No hard feelin's, rabbit." the fox grinned, leaping off the stage and eager for the tour. Walking at a more casual pace, Freddy set the start for Foxy's walk around of the restaurant, leaving Bonnie to trail behind ever so quietly. Their voices echoed down the hall before he glanced back to the stage where Chica stood, staring at the crate still scattered on the floor.

"Y'awright?" the rabbit called out softly.

He doubted anything could make this current situation alright. She had been played a fool. Danced to the tune of hope and glee, and was bamboozled as the carpet was pulled from her in the most vicious of ways. Yes, the universe had returned Foxy the Pirate. But he was a blank slate, a clean and wiped square one. And from that, there was no return. Comas did not occur in robots. Memories were there...or they weren't. It worked with their firmware, and nothing more. Yes, he was Foxy the Pirate. But not the one they knew, and not the one she hoped for.

She closed her eyes for a moment before making her way down the steps, the thumps of her weight bumping along the wood. She bypassed the tables, the stage, the crate, stopping just before the rabbit's gaze, though she couldn't share in it.

"Y'pulled though mighty fine, I'd say. All...All considerin'."

His voice was weak, fearful to shatter the glass wall she had put up.

Her duty to the children, to prepare the pirate for what was to become his norm.

It startled him when her head bumped along his chest.

"I-It's not...him." she whispered, the hush of white noise clotting her words.

Patting a gentle hand along her head, the rabbit nodded ever so slightly, his eyelids capped and curved.

"...I know."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Got my slippers. They're hysterically massive, and I love them so. Alright, so a few chapters left on this one. And no worries, I will let you know when the story itself has come to an end. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, following and adding to favorites. It does mean a lot to me. Happy holidays!_


	11. Eleven

Eleven

It was a rather quiet morning, as even the song birds that often started their chant around five ante meridiem had settled into their daily routines by six or so, the sticky summer air filled with anticipation for the unveiling of a new day. The crunch of keys broke through the mask of silence as the door swung open, the jingling collective following. Metal scratched along the ridges as the keys pulled out, and the glass vibrated upon its shut, feet shuffling along the carpeted walkway.

With a weary yawn, the manager set her coffee on the counter, adjusting the paperwork in her arms as she clipped her keys onto one of her belt loops. She nearly dropped everything when she glanced up, finding the night guard staring at her from down the hall, his feet shuffling quietly, spare clothing shoved into his thin sport sack, hat still capped. "Oh, good morning, Charlie."

"Mornin' Ms. Reed. I dunno how t'tell you this, but I think somethin's wrong with that new robot y'ull brought in here."

His voice was hushed, as if trying to keep a rushed secret from becoming too obvious, and his shoulder peer only alerted her at an alarming rate.

"Oh, geez, don't tell me-"

The young man tugged off his cap, smoothing out the crew cut, "Now don't get me wrong, I'm used t'these guys wanderin' around here. That's normal for me. But the new one started wanderin' around last night, an' just stopped next to my office an' wouldn't leave. Just stared me through the window for like...three hours. I don't think I've ever been more uneasy in my entire life. I ended up shuttin' the door on his end, an' _finally_ , he headed off somewhere. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on anythin' else. I couldn't understand it. I've been here a few months, an' I've been registered. I dunno if it was tryin' to scan me or what."

The usual quiet calm that often entered with the morning shift seemed disrupted by this news, and it was ever so slowly that the bots on stage exchange odd glances, Freddy the most baffled of all.

He had given the fox a proper tour of the entire establishment, and they had gone by the guard's office at least three times without a glitch in their step. Why would Foxy have frozen on this particular human? After all, the guard's claims were true. He had been registered to their database and had been cleared. This guard was no threat to them, or more importantly, the children. After visiting every location and explaining how things were run, he had left Foxy back at the Cove to get accustomed to his own location. And the fox had complied accordingly.

Freddy had returned to his own stage where the others awaited him. And it had been quiet. Chica most of all.

Had Foxy left the Cove right after?

"Uh...hmm..." Dawn placed the pile of papers on the counter, leaning out to peek down the hall. Nothing there. "Where is he now?" she muttered curiously, not too keen on bumping into one of these large bots while most of the lights were still off. Shoving his hat into his bag, Charlie glanced down the hall, "At six, they tend to be back at their charging docks...I honestly haven't checked on him."

"Do you have your flashlight on you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let me borrow it. One thing I picked up on while reading some paperwork. Bright flashing lights discombobulate the sensors. If he's not where he's supposed to be, I might be able to at least reset him."

The young man dug through his bag, placing the torch into her ready palm. She messed with the power switch a few times, prepping her reflexes before shining it brightly into the hallway, careful in her footing. It was never assumed that these animatronics would attack or charge her in any way, but she couldn't help but feel cautious when handling a robot thrice her weight and fresh from it's box. A bit of programming, and he would be fine, or so she hoped. Peering into the Pirate Cove, her eyes wandered curiously at the renovations before stopping on stage, the scruffy sailor docked exactly where he should be, his eye a pulsing silver.

With a soft sigh, she closed the door and shut the flashlight, turning to open the rest of the lights. The body she bumped into startled her as she nearly swung the handle end of the torch, "Oh! Charlie-"

"Sorry, ma'am. I took up behind you. Wanted to make sure everythin' was in order before I left. He's chargin'?"

"He's charging." she assured, handing him back the light, "But I will take note of what happened. None of our other bots have done that before, that I'm aware of. I'm having our mechanic check him over today, anyway. Make sure he's up to snuff before his show next week."

The guard nodded lightly, his previous nerves settled. As long as it wasn't stalking him, he was fine.

* * *

"Next week, guys! Next week! You can make your reservations at the front desk. Be quick, though. Lots of people've been askin'!"

Her hand swiped at the handle, flipping in and shutting the door behind her.

"Phew. I didn't realize how popular you were until we got you up an' runnin', buddy. What's it like bein' a rock star?" Anna's laugh echoed in the new room, the lights bright and blue like a summer's sky. Her tool box clunked onto one of the wooden tables as she gazed about, whistling in fascination at the newest digs for Foxy the Pirate.

"And to think we were usin' this space like storage. Looks like we were hidin' a gem. The room feels so big without all the junk in the way. Alright." she huffed, flipping through the notes Dawn had given her. It would have been easier if Dawn would have just given her the papers to read on her own, but Dawn was a stubborn kind who preferred to read everything herself first before handing off directions. It was a habit that could be appreciated to a certain point. Dawn knew nothing of robotics lingo, nor of what these bots necessarily needed if they were acting out of the norm...like staring at a night guard for three hours.

It was an odd and surreal concept to imagine, but Foxy _was_ new. Perhaps there was some software required to get him going?

Grabbing her toolbox, Anna made her way to the front of the stage, setting her box on the platform before her before jogging up the steps and pulling the curtains wider to give her better access. Flicking the backstage lights, she turned to the newest Fazbear member, a small grin growing.

"Wow, look at you. What a shave an' a haircut can do, huh? Even got you some new duds. Guess they took the hook for safety reasons..." she hummed, stepping around the bot to analyze him closer, "Bah, I liked the hook. It's part of the character, _and_ it's on your cups. Oh, well. Not my call." Pulling out her notes, the young woman tilted her head curiously. It had been eight hours since Foxy had been solidly docked in his station, and yet he still seemed to be in stasis. The average for the others required about four hours of uninterrupted charging; however, between their shows, they did step back into them for an additional boost. It kept them fully charged which was rather commendable for the older models they were.

But Foxy was new. One would think he would charge faster and more efficiently. A first full charge was just as important, she assumed. But it was two in the afternoon, and he needed to be tested.

Scribbling something down on her pad, Anna stood before the pirate, waving an arm. All of the bots tracked motion, at the very least.

"Hi, Foxy, my name's Fazbear Roadie, Anna."

At the sound of her voice, the silver glow morphed to gold and the bot's head lifted to life, much smoother and fluidly than any of the other bots. No more worn belts in these newer models.

His ears twitched in their slots as he took a step forward, golden eye swinging back and forth before his patch popped and both pupils locked on the human before him, so much smaller than he. The fox's head tilted ever so slightly, jaw opening for a brief moment before jousting his head toward the side, arms crossing before his chest, "This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel only."

His voice was deep and rough and everything she imagined he would sound like, somewhat fascinated with the new animatronic that she nearly missed his dismissal.

Her smile traded for a thoughtful pout before trying once more.

"It's Fazbear Roadie, Anna."

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel only."

Her brows lowered, pressing her fingers along her back, "What are you talkin' about, fox? I _am_ authorized personnel."

The bot remained in his position, both eyes peering at her, unblinking, though highly disinterested in their conversation. At least the other bots seemed to have some humanizing lines to reply with. This one seemed less humane than the others. How odd.

"Override, five three eight six."

"Access denied."

Rolling her eyes, Anna swiped at the walkie talkie on her hip, "Dawn? We have a problem in Pirate Cove."

The static on the radio seemed to catch the bot's attention, though he made no further movement.

" _Fantastic. What's going on now?_ "

"Apparently I'm not authorized personnel. An' my override command isn't working. If I can't override this thing into standby, I can't open him up."

Her eyes lifted toward the creature as Dawn's voice broke through the scratchy static.

" _Oh, wait. Jerry did say something about the Cove being a different registry. It's not roadies in there...It's uh...hang on..._ "

Glancing at the fox's clothing, Anna arched a brow, recalling the man's interaction with Chica.

"Shipmate?"

The fox seemed to recognize the term, eying her intently.

" _Yeah, that's it. Try that._ "

Stretching out her arms, Anna nodded her head, "Ahoy, Foxy! It's Shipmate Anna!"

The bot gazed at her as if she had declared a secret password to his domain, then lowered his arms and waltzed away, spinning the wheel of his helm with a hum. He whistled a tune for a brief moment, brows suddenly knitting before gazing upon her once more.

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel only."

Rubbing her hand along her head, the young woman sighed, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. It's _Shipmate_ Anna!"

The fox stared at her for a moment, once more revealing an expression of recognition before shaking it off.

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized-"

"-personnel only. Yeah, I got it, thanks." she replied bitterly as he seemed to entertain himself along his stage, wandering from place to place, observing things, but paying her no mind. She pressed the third button on her device, "Yeah, that's a no-go on shipmate. I dunno what's goin' on with him. He seems to know the word, but tells me I'm not authorized. He sounds like a broken recording. Reminds me I'm dealin' with robots after all."

" _And the override didn't work?_ "

"Nope. Access denied."

" _Ugh...Jerry has the manual. I'm thinking if Pirate Cove has its own registry, it probably has its own set of codes, including override codes._ "

A bit of static muffled as Dawn blew a sigh into the radio.

" _I...am going to see if Jerry can stop by later, then. Or at least drop off the manual for you._ "

"Roger that. I won't be able to get anything done until then." Anna muttered, "Working on an active bot just isn't covered by my insurance."

* * *

"Up an' walkin' is he?"

"Sure is. But he won't give me the time of day. I can add him to my ever growin' list."

The two employees chuckled as Anna opened the door, flicking on the lights and shutting the door after Jerry before any kids could attempt to sneak in.

The animatronic was gazing at the back of the stage, knuckles at his hips as if basking in the nonexistent sunlight. His ears twitched at the click of the door, peering over at them, but ignoring them just as quickly.

A smile curled under the mustache, "Wow, look at him."

"Yeah, he's beautiful. An' annoying." the girl uttered, rolling up her jumpsuit's sleeves, "All he can say is authorized personnel only an' access denied. Sounds like a great storyteller. The kids'll love him.

"Patience, Anna." the older man laughed, leading himself toward the stage's stairs, but not before observing the room once more. This would be a sellout for sure. They just needed Foxy to cooperate.

"Ahoy, captain!" he sang, falling into a firm salute in the center of the stage. The fox's ears twitched as it turned on its heel, scanning the human addressing him.

"It be Shipmate Jerry!"

The bot spied him for a moment, jaw opening a sliver as his eyes lit up, and then, nothing.

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel only."

A light huff of laughter escaped the young woman as if to say 'I told you so', but Jerry hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head. "I figured as much." he uttered softly, gazing off to the side as he did his best to recall the old codes of Pirate Cove.

"Override access, one zero one zero."

The stern look the fox carried suddenly fell dull, the bright golden beacon, now a dim pulsing silver. His arms fell soundly to their sides, head craning forward just a tad.

Brows furrowing, Anna lightened the bands of her ponytail, swirling the long strands into a bun, "Okay, fine, Foxy. Work for him. See if I care. I'll just be keeping you in tip top working condition. No big deal or anything."

The older man laughed, thumbing along his chin, "It's just a different set of override codes from the band, that's all. I read through that whole manual, but the most important information was kept the same. Same codes, same key words, same functionality. They updated the stories a bit, but it's nothin' too terribly different from what I remember. The armature is supposedly more flexible an' durable than his old one."

Jogging up the steps, Anna halfway disappeared behind the red curtain, rummaging through some props before pulling out a folded step stool. Placing it right behind the bot, she climbed the five steps, dusting off her hands before peering down the base of Foxy's neck, finding the sturdiest of material keeping his suit properly fitted and attached. "Phew, wish me luck. Looks like they built this guy to last."

Leaning himself along one of the tables, Jerry watched as she unhooked three firm clasps, tugging firmly at the Velcro lining his back, and hummed in curiosity when she paused, muttering to herself.

"Well, that's new..."

"The zippers?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"New feature built in the suit. It's in the book. It's just extra security to keep everythin' on him when he's dancin' around. That's a thing now. He'll be dancin' some kinda jig or somethin'." the older man noted with an amused smile, crossing his arms when she undid the industrial zipper, grunting as she tried her best to pull it apart, minding the fur tufts threatening her and the cotton of his gear.

"Whoever thought of putting a shirt on this guy obviously didn't think it through." she muttered, pinching the fabric up as she tried opening his back panel, "I can't see this thing lasting a few tune ups before someone rips it right off him."

"Someone." Jerry grinned. He eyed the robot in standby mode, his smile growing genuine. The moment this room opened up to the public, he would be sure to bring the young ones of his family around. Especially now with all the new effects he had read about. To bring the restaurant back to it's full potential...well, that would be nice for the town itself. Nice for the children.

A sharp whistle broke him from his thoughts.

"He's got that new car smell."

A light chuckle escaped the older man, adjusting the baseball cap on his head, "You an' your machines."

Peeking along the wiring and metal, Anna casually shrugged, darting the pen flashlight she pulled from her pocket to and fro along Foxy's back. "Hey, I'm makin' some spare cash workin' on stuff familiar to me. Nothin' wrong with that. Besides, these oddballs are growin' on me." She pulled her head out from the panel, shutting it firmly, "An' I'm determined to add this guy to my gang, so enough with his core, but seriously, it is squeaky clean in there. He could run a mile with that armature. An' check this out, Jerry."

Her hand stuck out between Foxy's torso and right arm, pinching along the meat of the suit, "You know how with the old one they just slapped the suit over the skeleton an' that was it? This guy has Velcro padding covering up his wires an' armature, so his arms an' chest have some squish. That's a nice touch. Protects the kids, protects the bot, an' makes him feel more...real."

Sealing up his back, she roughly peeled up the material from the base of his head toward the very slots of his ears, peeking in through the sides at his jawline. Clean metal sturdily adhered.

"No belts, I hope."

Her eyes darted to the man below, shaking her head with a smile, "Nope. Just gears an' cogs an' everythin' else. Updated, Jerry. Updated!" she laughed, undoing the latch at the back of Foxy's head and pulling open the door. Inside was a colorful display of wires and tech, the back of his eyeballs, the connections for his ears, a few sensor panels, and a box about the size of her fist with a clear case shutting it tight. Without disturbing it, she could see four slots for some form of data, though only two were being utilized. The other two were empty. Very carefully flipping it open, she wiped her hand along her jumpsuit, keeping note on the slot she pulled from, and tugged the chip out.

"Alright, Foxy. Let's see what makes you tick. We've got...an AFN 1005 Multi Core Data Microprocessor..." she noted, cautiously clicking it back into its slot, fingers pinching along the other chip as Jerry huffed in approval.

"Last I remember, the old processor was a 1001, so that's a nice boost. The others have a...what?"

"1003. So this guy is ready to dance his little heart out. With a...Bi-Dart Analog –hang on."

Her voice grew muffled as she tried squinting at the tiniest print labeled on the square.

"Bi-Dart is his character programming. Stories, personality, voice recording. You are literally holding the essence of Foxy the Pirate in your hands." Jerry smiled as she popped the data back into its slot, peering around a bit more before leaning back.

"Hmm...alright. That's it."

The smile faded from Jerry's face, his brows suddenly knitting. He had skimmed the data basing of Foxy's "brain" as it were, but those weren't nearly enough pieces to have him up and running. The previous model had carried more than that, and the manual had even made note of the importance of each individual piece of tech that would ensure their robot a proper optimal performance.

"Wh-...no, no, that doesn't sound right. He needs more than just his processor an' Bi-Dart chip...What about memory? Any kind of memory chip loaded in there?"

Anna's head peered over the bot's shoulder, head shaking slowly as she gazed into the cranium of the pirate with her pen light, but her pace grew faster with a slight sigh. "No, I'm not seein' any gigs in this guy. I know we upgraded the band, I think...two years ago? They have 2 terabytes each. Keeps a solid recording for face recognition for about...a month or so, until the drive categorizes frequent visitors, employees, –anybody really, an' then we just hook 'em up to the database at the end of the month an' it compresses all that info into the main server."

"Mm-hm. An' how much space do they have without any memory chip?"

She winced in thought, "Off the top of my head...I dunno. Like...a few gigs at best. Just enough to keep the fragmented data, I guess. But it's not enough to do us any favors. He should really have some kind of back up storage on par with the others, at the very least."

"What about his INT chip?"

Her eyes locked onto the box with two open slots, semi cupping her mouth in thought. "I feel stupid now." she muttered, shutting the door to the fox's head, "Never crossed my mind. The INT is for –"

"Face recognition." Jerry finished with a small smile, bouncing his head in light agreement.

Well, now it all made sense. Each bot was preprogrammed with those chips in order to provide safety and a customizable experience for each client. The INT chip covered everything from face detection to employee registrars. From there, the data would be backed up to their internal memory, and their back up, if need be.

"Captain's missin' half his brain. He can't recognize faces, an' he can't store the data." he added, watching Anna pull the material back over Foxy's head, smoothing out the curve.

"Well...dang. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets to tell Dawn, 'cus this guy is scheduled for next week, an' we got sold out shows." she huffed, climbing down the stool, "I mean, what are we gunna do? We can't even do a test run without that stuff."

Blowing out a bit of air, Jerry ran a hand along his neck, hooking it there as he debated the options.

"The INT is provided from the same manufacturer as the Bi-Dart, so...maybe Dawn can make a few calls. Expedited shipping or something. We need that chip to make the database function. Otherwise, we've got a locked up bot."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I really appreciate the love this story is getting. And I'm determined to get it completed as soon as possible, just so I can start on the others. Happy Holidays!_


	12. Twelve

Twelve

SLAM!

Crack!

SLAM!

Crack!

Ear twitching, Bonnie sighed grumpily, shifting his bass along his leg. What in blazes was going on in the Pirate Cove? It wasn't enough that Foxy had come back to them in the status he did, but to throw them into an instant upset on a nightly basis? He surely hoped that wasn't the new norm. They enjoyed their quiet nights, or at least, _he_ did. But from the looks on the others' faces, they weren't too keen on the current disruption either.

The old Foxy, quiet as he had become over the years, hadn't ever caused such a ruckus even in his earlier days. He had found his place after a while and rarely lurked about the Cove unless he had a mischievous plan in mind, but this was beyond a thump or two of a table or chair. This was vigorous. Aggravated. Unyielding.

Heavy thuds.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

SLAM!

Eyes widening, Bonnie leaned forward in a start as did the others when a very humanoid yelp broke through the air, setting off all their internal alarms.

Chica was the first down the hall, rushing as quickly as her balance could carry her.

The night guard.

He was after the night guard.

But why?

The night guard had been registered ages ago. Cleared. None of them had found a single shady thing stitched to his name. This one was innocent as far as they knew. But something about that guard seemed to transfix the fox something fearsome since the prior night. They had to rectify the situation before it became...dangerous. They were a strong build compared to a squishy breakable human. A human that could feel pain, both internal and external. A human that could shut down permanently from one bad blow. Humans did not have the luxury of work orders. They were limited to one good run, and one only. How they chose to perform that run fluctuated how long they lasted in this world. Eating well or poorly, exercising or lounging, limiting or increasing their vulnerability in the risks they took. Humans were fragile relentless things.

One bad situation was all it would take.

" _ **Snap-jaw**_ _, is it?"_

The pirate's voice looped on repeat: irritated, sour, and shameful all at the same time.

He wasn't going to hurt another human. Never again. Not if she could help it.

And she refused to have him shut down. Never. Again.

She halted at the guard's office, the security fire door sealed tight on their side, but that hadn't stopped the newest delivery from ramming himself into it, scratches and dents marking where his body had impacted. He had stopped to glare through the window, a short growl rolling from his voice box as he eyed his prey within. Engrossed. Obsessed.

It took all but seconds before Freddy and Bonnie had reached them, but the bird had found her voice, regardless of who it was directed towards.

"An' just what in the _world_ do y'think your doin'?" she snapped darkly, her wing tapping firmly on the door. The damage he had done could not be undone, but it hadn't ruined the seal so far that it wouldn't work for its intended purposes. The golden eye darted from the panel to her after a moment, but shifted back, his brows lowered, fingers digging along the wall just under the glass.

"Yesterday, I was merely curious. Odd creatures they be, yer humans. So _fond_ o'them, are ye'?"

His voice held a dark and playful tone, a calm before the storm.

"I'd rather be _hanged_ an' _drowned_ a complete man than picked apart by yer human tinkers! I abode by yer rules, Fazbear! Kept the peace among the human folk, an' faster than I could blink, I was out like a candle, a solid chunk o' time unaccounted fer! They rummaged through me head an' chest, they did! I never signed up fer this torture! An' _you_!" he snarled, finally spinning away from the window to throw a spiteful finger at Chica, "Ye' said these be friendly waters! An' I bloody _trusted_ ye'!"

The bird's eyes widened as the fox glared at her with such disdain; disgust aimed directly her way from the eye that reminded her of who he had been.

The face she had grown accustomed to.

The one she had catered her time and efforts for.

She found herself unable to share in his gaze. She knew in his mind, he had won the dominance of their argument, but she simply didn't have it in her to challenge him. Not with that face. Not with that voice. Not with his eye.

Eyes darting between them, the rabbit stepped forth, "Now, you listen here," Bonnie scoffed, throwing his own threatening finger, "These waters–I mean, this _place_ is as friendly as can be as long as y'mind yer manners an' know yer place among the humans. We're _here_ because o' _them_. Ain't a thing they did t'ya that we haven't gone through ourselves. It's called _maintenance_ , an' if y'ull wanna stay around, y'ull be needin' 'em t'keep y'fully functional."

"Wull, fancy that. I don't _remember_ askin' t'be here." Foxy growled, "An' I'll not be some experiment fer them t'pick apart an' back again like some witch doctor's zombie! They ain't touchin' me again, I'll be sure o'it!"

The fox's digits curled into solid fists, holding his glare with Freddy who seemed neither intimidated nor impressed by the bot's actions. It was understandable for a routine maintenance job to be somewhat intimidating for a first time, but it didn't cause them a bit of damage.

This appeared to be the fit of an alpha male refusing to conform.

Foxy's first arrival hadn't been anything like this, nor had he sought revenge on a human who had nothing to do with the check. Yes, he had thought it odd, but once explained, the bot shrugged it off, claiming doctors were nothing but pirates themselves, aiming for ails to steal the gold from their patients. This Foxy seemed...a tad more sensitive on the subject.

But there were rules to be followed.

Human safety before all else.

No matter who "all else" entailed.

"You're welcome here as long as you follow the rules and mind your actions." the bear uttered so casually, it bothered the rest of his band. He had a way of asserting his authority in the calmest of ways without ever needing to resort to physical restraint, not that he had ever been pushed so far to use it. Foxy had been the only bot to ever challenge Freddy's rules, but rare had it been when, or if, he ever broke them, and never on purpose. Foxy had respected Freddy above all else. The head of mainland, as the fox had always declared, while he took claim of the seas. It was a mutual understanding of unspoken esteem, and though the pirate had an occasional trouble making streak, he hadn't ever been a spiteful soul.

"Y'seem t'be missin' the part where I allow yer humans t'fiddle about in me head wif'out a qualm." the pirate spat, holding a finger to his ear, but Freddy only held his ground. He had to. For the good of the children.

"It's not magic, an' it won't make you any less than who you are. Human mechanics are here to make sure we're up an' running as functionally as possible. They keep us oiled, maintained, an' in service. If they stop, we stop. An' we'll become scrap heap. They mean us no harm." the bear noted, hand out and balanced in the pauses he took. "You can either accept this world an' be apart of it, where the environment will best fit your needs, or you can reject it, an' expect the rest of your days to be unaccounted for. The choice is yours."

Head lowering, the fox growled, observing each bot before slamming his fist against the door one last time. The guard within seemed to scramble about, then settle, unsure of how to further protect himself from the danger outside his office. The cameras could not reach the area just outside his door. Proving this was going to be a nightmare in itself. But the dents would be there. It was something to prove his case against the haywire bot.

"Keep yer human meddlers away from me, Fazbear. An' that goes fer the rest o'ye'. These waters be tainted wif the worst kind'a monsters imaginable...an' the worst sirens _t'date_." he fizzled, his golden eye falling on the bird. She had dared to gaze up for a sliver of a second, but it was all he needed to gain the upper hand. "Lure me into a false sense o' security wif yer solid acts o' loyalty. Ain't a mutiny worse than throwin' yer captain t'the sharks. Good on ye', lass. Yer's is a dish best served poisoned. A specialty brew, most like."

Her weary gaze held at first, then stronger, finding herself unable to tear away.

His words. His voice. His look.

But it was not him.

 _It's not him, Chica. It's not._

His brows lowered flat, pivoting on his heel and revealing the tail she had forgotten he had.

"I can't imagine surroundin' me'self wif the likes of ye'."

 _It's not him, Chica._

 _It's not._

Her eyes clicked down as he shuffled himself back to the Cove, leaving them be for the night.

 _It's not him._

The other bots refused to move.

 _It's not._

Shutting down seemed an easy option compared to it all.

* * *

Thumbing along the dents in the door, Jerry whistled lightly.

"Foxy did this?"

"That's what Charlie's saying. The day before, he claimed Foxy had wandered to his office, stared at him for hours, and wouldn't leave. He's starting to get rattled by this, and I wouldn't blame him if that's truly what's going on around here at night. I thought bringing that robot back around would help boost some revenue and provide more hours, but this is sounding dangerous. If he's malfunctioning around an adult, how can he possibly pass for inspection? This thing is meant for children."

Dawn leaned against the wall, avoiding the rushing gust of six year olds racing by. Her hand cupped along her jaw, curling her other arm under in thought.

Leaning up from his kneel, Jerry waved his hand against the window, signaling the worker within to open the fire door. It slipped up with a clack.

"Well, the door works fine, so at least we won't have to replace that." he sighed, dusting off his hands. He stepped halfway through the door frame, leaning his back along the jamb between his shoulders, crossing his arms. "As for Foxy...well. He wasn't havin' any part of us until I overrode him. No question about it, we need those other pieces. Without that chip, we won't be able to program a single thing."

"But for the bot to single out Charlie?" Dawn uttered in a hushed voice, sure not to speak too loudly for the sake of customers overhearing.

Tilting his head with a slight nod, Jerry hummed, "I'm gunna have to say that's due to Foxy missing any kind of face recognition. After hours, no one's supposed to be here. He's sensing an intruder an' tryin' to scare him away. Without any registry, Foxy's not gunna be able to tell the difference between an employee or a break in."

Eyes closing for a moment, the manager bit along her lip, "About that..."

"Uh-oh." the man smiled wearily, crossing his boot over the other for balance, "What happened?"

"I called the manufacturer's number yesterday. I got some kind of automated message, went through the whole press one, press two ordeal, and I couldn't get a live person; but, I did get some prerecorded message explaining the process of updated replacement bots. It sounded to me like once they get the original, and we get the replacement, the original is recycled for parts, so..." she paused, rubbing along the side of her face. "I did leave my number. Hopefully I get a call back from someone who can help. It was very odd. They didn't even have any extension for ordering parts. Just full body replacements."

"I guess they figure it's less of a hassle to just replace the whole thing. We've been usin' contractor mechanics to keep these bots functioning. I always assumed there was a budget for it."

"There is," Dawn nodded, "The mechanics list out what they need and we write a check, but that's only if Anna can't make do with what we have here. Otherwise, it's just the monthly clean up, and biannual tune up. I just find it strange that they would send us an entire updated replacement mascot and not something...new. Like a different one. After twenty years, I'd think that character would've faded from existence, even design wise. Replacing the same character has caused more problems than I was prepared for."

Chuckling lightly, Jerry shook his head, "They're not gunna get rid of ol' Foxy. It's a matter of copyright. Their design and capabilities are unique to the Fazbear restaurant. No other place I can think of that has bots with a fail safe database. When it comes to kids, these animatronics are the best babysitters around. It's the _adults_ that worry me. Human error can be a scary thing." he huffed, glancing at the manager curiously when her phone went off, a cheerful tune filling the air.

Clapping her hands to her lips in a slight prayer, she tapped accept, plugging her other ear as she knit her brows, "Dawn Reed, speaking."

She listened for a moment, eyes lighting up eagerly.

"...Yes! Yes, we've received the replacement; however, there seems to be a few important pieces missing. Uh-just a moment, the paperwork is in my office."

She pointed to the phone as Jerry offered a slight nod, lifting his hands with his digits twisted.

"Fingers crossed." he smiled quietly, watching her dart down the hall.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I hope everyone's holidays are going well, and that your Christmas was fulfilling, if you celebrate it. I received a few FNAF related things, but I've yet to get a huge Foxy plush, so I'll be sure to hunt one of those down eventually. I have a 6 inch one and my dog seems to think its hers so she runs off with it to chew his face on occasion. I'm thinking a portly sized one will be too difficult for her to drag off. On an unrelated note, I appreciate the reviews, favs, and follows as always._


	13. Thirteen

Thirteen

The ticking of the early hours seemed to fill the halls that night, haunting the stationary three as none dared to bring up the obvious topic. The Cove was quiet. It had remained quiet ever since the night before, but just for precautionary sake, Freddy had made his way around the hallways, keeping to the shadows as not to give the guard another fright. The guard appeared fine, monitoring the screens every so often, snacking on a few cold fries.

The door to the Cove was closed.

Perhaps that was for the best.

Foxy was where he felt safe, and while alone, perhaps he would think over Freddy's proposition. It was a fair one, a deal that provided equality for all. The rules weren't difficult to follow, simply humane. To protect and guard their home and patrons, that was all. But they could not allow a violent vengeance seeker among them. During their tour, Freddy had explained their duty to the children, and Foxy had seemed genuinely interested.

But now it only worried the bear.

Children were vulnerable. Impressionable. Innocent.

The old Foxy had adored them. Deemed them precious in their own right.

What was wrong with this version? An angered Foxy was nothing new. The old Foxy had always carried a slight temper on him, but nothing so vigorous as this. Often petty squabbles. Nonsense soon forgotten.

Not spite.

The bear soon found himself back in the main show room, Bonnie aligning chairs neatly...Chica hadn't moved.

Aside from her expected performances, she had not moved since the night before, nor had she said a word otherwise.

The fox's words had damaged her something fearsome, and though they were all completely aware that this Foxy was indeed not _their_ Foxy, it had damaged her all the same. The spite that creature now carried had gone for her throat, and whether or not he had intended for it to ruin her as much as it did was as good a guess as any. And as much as Freddy wished to rectify the situation...to heal the wounds...to finally put his family at ease, there was absolutely nothing he could do.

He couldn't fix the words the fox had used.

He couldn't fix the damage the fox had done.

He couldn't fix the metaphorical heart the fox had broke.

He couldn't fix the fox.

He only wished there were a way to make him understand how important he was to the functionality of the band...but he doubted the pirate would care. Foxy wanted nothing to do with them, now much too paranoid to set a foot into their halls. To interact with him was to instigate a problematic situation, and now, more than ever, was not the time to engage. It would put their mechanic in danger, if she wasn't already on a targeted list. It would threaten the well being of the children. And most certainly of all, they would shut down the pirate for good, or something worse.

The renovations had already taken place. It was no secret that the Cove was due to open the following week. If Foxy deemed himself an irredeemable threat, it would damage the reputation of the restaurant. His reserved shows would have to be refunded and perhaps worse would come from it from all the disgruntled customers. The restaurant had never been a rich one, but it made due as best it could for the experience. For the children.

His eyes clicked from Bonnie to Chica, quiet as he made his way back to the stage.

He would talk with Foxy...soon. Too many things rested on his behavior.

Too many things.

* * *

Finishing off her burger, Anna wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. If there were any benefits to working part time at a restaurant that catered to very young children, it was free game tokens and free meals. The work wasn't so hard as it was tedious, as the robots themselves were functional enough for their age. Waiting around for a breakdown wasn't the most glorious way to spend her hours, but it paid.

Munching along some of her fries, her eyes flicked up with a smile when the lounge door opened,

"Hah, just the person I needed to see after my break."

The older man paused his step with a chuckle, closing the door behind him, "Barely put my bag down an' I feel like I'm walkin' right into a set'a chores. I could've stayed home for that."

She took a sip of her soda with a chuckle, "Yeah, well, you're the only one who knows the Cove codes, an' Dawn said a package came in today. She's pretty much balancin' on her toes right now hopin' everything works out right."

"Poor girl," Jerry sighed, picking a locker to place his things in before pulling out his cap, "Her plans work in theory, but the ratio of mistakes goin' on in the world outweighs the odds. I'm hopin' it all works out, too, for her sake. I think she's been losin' sleep over this."

Collecting her trash, Anna tossed it into the nearest bin, finishing off her drink.

"I'll get the box an' you can meet me at the Cove whenever you're ready. Maybe we'll finally see a show from Foxy."

Stepping over toward the sink, the older man started to wash his hands, offering her a nod, "Alrighty. One zero one zero is the override for standby. I have to clock in before I head over."

Saluting a pointer, she opened the door and weaved through the group marching from the game room, hearing the upbeat music of the main show starting up at the opposite end. Her knuckles rattled on the manager's door, twisting the knob when she heard a muffled greeting.

"Foxy's stuff?" the mechanic noted as she poked her head in, eyes skimming the smallish room. A wooden desk, a few file cabinets, and a single chair pressed against the desk filled the space rather cozily, but nothing more seemed appropriate. Not even an additional human.

Dawn was on the phone, waving her hand in a slight greet. She pointed to the top of the closest file cabinet where a hand sized box rested, already sliced open and analyzed. The packing popcorn shifted when the box was grabbed, a few spilling on the floor, but Anna ignored the minor details, shutting the door for the bit of quiet Dawn's office allowed. Direct to office calls were usually important. Despite the fact that the restaurant catered to children, no one liked a screaming child on the other line of their conversation.

Fingering through the popcorn, Anna found a small plastic casing, peering through the semi transparent shell. Two terabytes of memory. Good. Data storage was absolutely necessary. That fox needed to remember her name. Or at least recognize her as a working employee, anyway. The homey warmth of the other robots had spoiled her.

She scooped around again, shuffling through the crunches.

Another plastic casing.

She held it in the light, squinting at the tiniest of print.

INT.

"Do you know the problems you've caused us?" the mechanic huffed mockingly, resting both pieces on the top of the popcorn, slipping through the hall and pausing just before the Cove.

Jerry was nowhere to be found.

Probably still clocking in and sneaking the news of the day with one of the front staff. Well, that was fine. She needed him after the chips were installed for the test run. One zero one zero. Simple enough.

Turning the knob, she pushed along with her shoulder.

The lights were off.

Her brows knit.

Strange.

Flicking the switch, she closed the door behind her, peering around the room.

Neat and tidy it was, though the curtain appeared to be drawn to a close. Probably the nightly cleaning crew, she assumed. The curtain was rather interesting to look at anyway. Compass, flag...sure. That seemed nautical. Picking up chips from the box, she tossed the cardboard onto one of the closest tables, clambering up the steps.

It would be interesting to see Foxy in action. She had been too young by the time his show had been put on hold, and, like everyone else, she had forgotten about his existence. He was obviously a different piece of work than the other three: the room alone was beyond fascinating in its own right. But there was always the question. Would he prove to be even more entertaining? The opportunity was there. A projection show felt largely upgraded than anything else they had going on in the restaurant. Not that he would replace Freddy or the band. Private shows were simply more appealing, especially for private parties. It was all about the experience. And people were willing to pay more for a tailored experience. Win, win.

She pulled the curtain apart, peering into the dark nook.

Hidden away and docked in his station like before.

The wheels of the curtain rigs rolled thickly in their rail as she forced them all the way open, brightening up the area. Closed off areas were too claustrophobic for her to properly work in, not to mention the eerie feeling of the odd painted walls behind him. They felt overbearing in that space the closer she stepped. Perhaps from the tables, it teased the eye into a proper perspective, but standing too close made her feel tiny in comparison. Shaking her head, she focused her attention on the back stage lights, flicking them on and grabbing the stool she had left on the side. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could disembark from the stage.

Arching a brow, Anna set the stool next to the helm, juggling the chips in her hand.

He seemed to like his charge. But it was time to wake up. Briefly.

"Ahoy, Foxy!"

Sensors activated.

The robot's eye illuminated a bright golden as his head overlapped the weight, his stark gaze falling directly on her, ears lifting in their slots. The rest of the gears whirred within as his head tilted, analyzing her transiently.

His thick brows lowered.

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel only."

Propping her finger under one of the slots in the casing, Anna sighed grumpily, ignoring the alert. It seemed he remembered her after all. How nice.

The plastic latch was tougher than it looked. She only hoped it didn't completely shatter her already weak nail. A solid pair of gloves would do her wonders.

"Yeah, hang on-" she muttered, fighting with the case.

The bot unlatched from his dock, taking a heavy step forward.

"This be Pirate Cove. Authorized personnel _only_."

The tone of his voice mimicked irritation, catching her attention as she managed to loosen the catch, but stumbled back as the bot neither paused nor slowed his pace toward her. Her brows narrowed, holding her forearm up,

"What the– Overri–"

"Access denied!" he barked, refusing her a moment to break through the programming.

His foot slammed against the wooden floors.

Shuffling back with every step he took, she snapped her gaze behind, finding her floor space running out with no path to dart. He had pinned her to the center stage, where the mouth of the deck was widest. Sliding toward either side would put her directly in his route. Filling her lungs, she tried once more.

"Override one-"

"Access denied!"

He marched her to the edge of the stage, his golden eye peering through her soft browns.

Relentless.

Unforgiving.

The code wasn't working.

He wasn't going to let it.

"ONE ZE-"

" _DENIED!_ INTRUDER ALERT! BATTEN DOWN THE STOWAWAY! INTRUDER ALERT! BATTEN DOWN THE STOWAWAY!" he screeched, arms jetting out to nab her, but she dodged, flinging herself off the edge of the stage and scrambled to her feet for fear he could jump down after her.

The predatory leer the pirate formed over her locked in position, eye still beaming a bright gold. Analyzing. Reaching. Ablaze.

The door slammed roughly, boots thudding along the carpet, "OVERBOARD ON THE SILVER HOOK! ALL HANDS!"

The fox froze in its fury, disabled in his pose.

"Override one zero one zero!"

The bot slumped, his eye pulsing gently once more.

Resting a heavy palm along her arm, Jerry took a deep breath, "Anna, you alright?"

Patting along herself, she nodded, wiping her nose with her knuckle. She seemed a bit shaken, an odd look for the thick skinned person she often was, but she hadn't been prepared for this. Foxy had directly lunged for her. One wrong move, and it could have been worse than the last injury of the Cove.

With a jittery exhale, she combed her fingers through her hair, realizing she had dropped the data chips in her scramble. "Y'know, I could've sworn he was givin' me attitude before he started goin' nuts like that. You must have that special touch." she joked weakly, finding one of the chips by her foot. The other was on stage, near Foxy's left foot.

Had it been any closer, his weight would've certainly smashed the plastic open...along with the rest of the contents.

Plucking the chip quicker than she normally would have, Anna cupped them in her palms, shaking them loosely as she tried to shake the event away from her thoughts. "I really wanna like him, Jerry." she noted with a weak tease, but the older man rested a hand across his own chest, trying to calm himself. His heart was still racing. He could only imagine hers.

"That was...too close. We gotta get him workin' properly."

Walking up the steps again, she scooted the stool closer to the bot, eying the fox suspiciously. It wouldn't surprise her if he decided to spring back from his stasis somehow. Nothing would surprise her at this point. "Well, they're not programmed to like...actually _hurt_ anyone, right?" she questioned curiously, her voice rather low.

Rubbing along his shoulder, Jerry held on to the table behind him before deciding to join her on stage. Malfunctioning robots were dangerous things and Foxy already had a past history.

"Y'know...I couldn't tell ya'. We've never been broken into before. But they must have some kinda feature t'chase or...I dunno. Get a hold of whoever gets in. I think I might pity the idiot who tries it if this is what they run into at night." the older man winced, watching as Anna adjusted the stool and climbed to the top step. She tapped the bot warily, making sure a final time it wasn't going to do anything she wasn't expecting, and undid the top of his back, fighting a bit with his shirt once more.

"The night guy said it was watching him a few days ago. Imagine if it would've gone haywire then? Stupid shirt….just need his neck...there." she huffed, tugging the heavy material up enough to open the latch in his head.

Cracking open the plastic cases, Anna carefully lifted open the transparent carton housing the other half of Foxy's brain, leaving the installed data in their slots. Her fingers swiped along the blank slits, sliding her middle finger along her palm to catch one of the chips.

INT.

 _Click!_

Memory.

 _Click!_

"That...should do it."

Her voice carried an uncertainty, glancing down at the man.

"Only one way to find out." he offered lightly.

She sealed up the hatch, tugging down the fur of Foxy's head and tucked it neatly as it was before she tampered with it. Her boot thumped against the wooden floor, pulling the stool away. Test run.

"Uh...just to make sure, maybe we shouldn't stand so close." she suggested wearily, and Jerry nodded, standing at his end of the stage, and she at hers.

With a single bow of her head, she crossed her arms as the man with the mustache recalled the necessary code.

"Override seven three zero one."

Foxy lurched forward as if zapped to life: eye darting from side to side, brows knitting then lifting, head jolting back before clicking in a looped half rotation. His arms rose as if reaching for something, then tucked into his chest, one falling to his side in a discombobulated jumble of coordination. His jaw popped open, then shut, static spurting from his voice box before yelping incoherent nonsense. "W-Wel-Wel-Wel-Welcome to me C– sing'a tale o'the se–ab-ab-ab-aboard the Siiiiiilver Hooook –beware the water maids! Beware the –me t-tender lassie, Cook! Ye-Ye-Yer ol' pal, Fox–Cook! Cook! Cook!"

Capping her head, Anna squinted at the noise as Jerry covered his ears, just as confused as she. Her eyes popped open as the bot's arms swung in an odd rhythm, possibly in a half effort of a dance.

"I forgot the hard reset! He needs to hard reset!" she yelled over the noise, shambling behind the robot as he moved sporadically.

"COVE ZERO ZERO ZERO FOUR!"

It went silent as the gears within the bot slowly came to a halt, humming down and popping, huffing, and hushing as they released their hydraulic pressure. His arms clicked their way down to his sides, jaw slack as his head leaned forward a bit, ears sliding loosely.

His eye neither pulsed nor shined with any kind of glow, providing more intimidation in his deadened state.

Shut down.

Tucking a bit of hair behind her ear, Anna rested her knuckles along her back. "I...didn't know we could do a hard shut down by voice command."

Removing his cap for a moment, Jerry adjusted the snaps in the back to a more comfortable level, "All of 'em respond to it. Each bot has their number, an' their room. We're only supposed to use that for emergencies, but...if Foxy fries his circuits, he's as good as done for. Let's give 'im a minute or two."

It remained awkwardly quiet as they left the animatronic a handful of minutes to truly cool down from whatever short he had gone through.

"Honestly, everyone in the restaurant's supposed to know these things, but no one ever takes the time to, an' it never gets mentioned in the training. It's important stuff. These bots...they could kill ya' if you ain't careful. Just like cars." he tossed her a small smile, and she sighed with a weary laugh, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "The day I have a car yell at me or give me attitude, I'm finding a new career. I don't need all that in my life."

Lifting his wrist, Jerry snuck a peek at his watch, aiming a quick nod toward the bot.

"Voice command doesn't work when he's shut down."

Furrowing her brows, the mechanic gazed at the pirate, grunting as she spied the shirt. Grumbling to herself, she slid the stool against the robot once more and fought with the material, nearly biting the striped cloth to keep it in place as she undid the back panel. "This is why they don't put clothes on these guys. And if they do, the clothes are part of the suit. I'm telling you, Jerry. It's not gunna last long." she snapped, hearing a slight stretch of cotton as she maneuvered her hand down the spine of the armature, following it up toward the main motor in his chest. Her fingers tapped gently as she sighed, craning her neck under the shirt and found the button on the side of the box, pressing the latch in for five solid seconds.

The fan within the box begun to spin.

She had one minute to seal him up before he started moving.

Door panel.

Locked.

Zipper.

She fought a moment before it finally went up.

Velcro.

Shirt.

She undid the base of his back to smooth his neck.

Clasps.

She scrambled down the steps as she heard the mechanics begin to whirr, pulling the stool out to the side of the stage.

Life seemed to enter the fox as he lifted his head smoothly, but gently, observing his surroundings before anything else as the gold of his eye brightened with every passing second. The left ear twitched, then the right, eye patch flipping before setting back, and his focus fell on himself: left arm, right arm. He stared at his right arm for quite a bit before recognizing the humans in the room, making his way toward them in an easy pace.

Anna kept her ground, but crossed her arms.

The pirate's eye fell on her first, head tilting as his knuckles rested along his back.

There was a moment of silence.

And then, a light huff.

"Welcome t'Pirate Cove. Captain Foxan Octavious Xylander Prendergast at yer service, or plain ol' Foxy will do. What be yer business? Or are ye' lost?"

The character's voice was still gruff, but it seemed to finally harness the warmth it had previously lacked. A tone of sincerity with a sprinkle of concern. Anna offered a small smile, glancing toward Jerry when the man lifted a light salute, "Ahoy, Captain! It be Shipmate Jerry!"

The robot focused on the man, eye darting from the top of his head to the start of his chest, quietly analyzing the creature before him. It had been years since Jerry had last been recognized in the Cove, but it was well worth a try to see if the data had kept during all this time. Foxy's silence earned a soft smile from the older man, shrugging lightly as he back pocketed his hand. "Figured I'd give it a try. It's been a-"

"Ahoy, Jerry Abner. Back t'sail wif the Silver Hook? Ye' look a smidge different than what I remember. No longer quite a lad." the bot noted tenderly, eye trailing the young woman as she leaned with a plastic grin toward the older man.

"Either that's really advanced, or really creepy." she uttered through her clenched teeth. Jerry only laughed, more fascinated than frightened by the statement.

"One heck of an upgrade, I'll tell ya'." he chuckled, stepping to the side as he left Anna in Foxy's direct view, "Registration for the Cove, four, three, two, one!"

The fox's casual gaze grew focused, ears perking as his finger darted toward her, "Be ye' worthy o' the Silver Hook? State yer name, sailor!"

Eyes darting between the robot and Jerry, the young woman straightened a bit, readying herself for face recognition, "Oh, uh- Anna!"

The pirate seemed to hold his muzzle in thought, blinking quickly.

"Oh, uh- Anna, 'tis, then."

"What? No!" she huffed as Jerry held in a snort, shaking his head when Foxy suddenly released a light chuckle, a slight grin lifting along his jaw. He leaned forward in a slight bow, humming softly,

"Shipmate Anna, welcome t'the Cove."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ _Happy New Year everyone! I hope all is going well for you and in the days to come. Got a little side tracked with some other writing, but I'm back on this again. Just to clear up some reader confusion, the bite mentioned in this story is not the bite of '87, as we know (spoiler alert), it had nothing to do with Foxy._


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